Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

by Ana Huang

“How does it feel to be lied to, Jules?” The raw, angry words sounded like they came from someone else. Someone crueler than I ever thought I could be. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

  The ice in my veins had melted. I was drowning from the inside out, and part of me wanted to give in, sink beneath the surface, and never come back up.

  Michael. Alex. Jules.

  Three of the people I trusted most all stabbed me in the back. Michael and Alex’s betrayals hurt, but Jules...she knew how fucked up I was from what happened with the others.

  Intellectually, I understood her reasoning for not telling me earlier. Emotionally, I couldn’t stop the hurt from poisoning every memory of us.

  Careful, Red. Keep saying things like that, and I might never let you go.

  You’re one of the few people I trust...even when we couldn’t stand each other, I could always count on you to be honest with me.

  Heat blazed across my cheeks.

  I was a fucking idiot.

  Jules pushed herself off the ground and faced me. Giant blotches of red bloomed across her face and neck. She’d stopped crying, but her breaths sounded abnormally loud and shallow in the silence.

  “It seems only fitting for us to end things with a goodbye fuck.” A cruel smile slashed across my mouth. The unyielding pressure had crawled up my throat, and it took twice as much effort to get my words out. “At least you got an orgasm out of it, so don’t say I never gave you anything. I’ll miss that tight pussy of yours though. No one takes my cock better than you do. It’s your best quality.”

  Vicious hurt slashed across her face and speared me in the chest like a hot poker.

  The only person I hated more than her in that moment was myself.

  “What I did was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Her small voice contained the barest hint of her usual fire. “But you’re being cruel.”

  “Am I?” I mocked. “Well, I’m fucking sorry. As you can see, being a nice guy hasn’t served me all that well in the past.” My eyes burned.

  Looking at her hurt. Hearing her hurt. Everything hurt.

  “You could’ve fucking told me, Jules. Did you really think so little of me that you thought I’d judge you for things you were manipulated into doing? That I wouldn’t have been on your side and took that fucker down with you? I understand why you didn’t tell me the truth at Hyacinth, but after Ohio…” My jaw clenched. “That’s what fucking hurts the most. That I considered you worthy of trust but you didn’t think the same of me.”

  Jules’s chin wobbled. She pressed a fist to her mouth, her eyes glistening in the dim light.

  “If you’d asked for the painting, I would’ve given it to you.” My voice cracked. “I would’ve given you anything you wanted.”

  A sharp sob bled through her fist, followed by another, and another, until her gasping breaths soaked every molecule of air.

  I watched, unmoving, as she hyperventilated, but my muscles strained with the effort to hold still.

  I loathed the part of me that still wanted to comfort her. It was the part with no self-preservation, that needed her so much it would willingly hand her the knife to stab me in the chest just so she could be the last thing I saw before I died.

  She was right. I was a masochist.

  “Get out.”

  Jules flinched at my quiet command. “Josh, please. I swear I didn’t—”

  “Get. Out.”

  “I lo—”

  “Don’t you dare say it.” My pulse spiked with another burst of adrenaline. Breathe. Just fucking breathe. “I said, get out, Jules. Get the fuck out!”

  She finally moved, her soft sobs growing fainter as she stumbled toward the door. It closed behind her, and then…silence.

  The tension holding me upright collapsed.

  I doubled over, hands on my knees, silent shudders wracking my body. The pressure inside me strangled every vital organ, but no matter how much it built and built, it refused to explode. It just sat there, suffocating me from the inside out.

  Jules was gone, but I still felt her. She was everywhere—in every inch of the room, every fragment of my thoughts, every beat of my heart.

  The visceral urge to destroy everything that reminded me of her propelled me off the couch and into my room. I rifled through my desk drawer for the Legally Blonde musical tickets and tore them into shreds, taking perverse satisfaction in the confetti of destroyed paper fluttering into my trash can.

  Next went the shirt I let her borrow the first night she slept over; the receipt from Giorgio’s, which I’d kept as a stupid secret memento of our first date, and the pillow with her scent lingering on it. Every little thing that contained even the sparsest memory of us, destroyed and tossed.

  By the time I finished, my room looked like how I felt: empty and hollow.

  Unable to stand the sight of the stripped room, I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest bottle of whiskey.

  I would’ve been concerned about how much I’d been drinking lately if I gave a shit about anything except drowning out Jules’s lingering presence. It wasn’t like I was fucking blacking out every night.

  I didn’t bother pouring the whiskey in a glass; I tipped my head back and chugged straight from the bottle.

  I don’t know how much I drank, nor did I care.

  I just drank and drank until I sank into the darkness of oblivion and thoughts of Jules finally faded from my mind.

  47

  JULES

  Remember when I said I forgive you? I lied.

  I stumbled toward the metro, Josh’s words echoing in my brain like an endless taunt.

  Remember when I said I forgive you? I lied.

  When I said I forgive you? I lied.

  Forgive you? I lied.

  I lied.

  I lied.

  Tears blurred my vision, and I wasn’t sure if I was going in the right direction, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get away.

  From Josh’s cruel words, his cold eyes, and his vindictive touch.

  From the knowledge that I’d fucked up and had no one to blame except myself.

  People said to have loved and lost was better than never having loved at all.

  They never said a damn thing about what it was like to have the person you loved and lost look at you like they utterly loathed you. Josh had never looked at me like that, not even when I thought he hated me.

  I swiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand, but it was like trying to sweep water back into the ocean. Utterly futile.

  I knew there was a chance Josh would react badly to the truth. I just hadn’t expected him to react that badly.

  The worst part was, he was right. I hadn’t trusted him to take my side after learning the truth. I’d been so blinded by my insecurities, so terrified of destroying one of the few beautiful things in my life, that I turned its destruction into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  Josh hadn’t cared about the sex tape or the stupid painting. He’d only cared that I lied to him.

  I was such a fucking idiot.

  If you’d asked for the painting, I would’ve given it to you. I would’ve given you anything you wanted.

  Fresh needles of pain pierced my chest. My heart burned like someone had raked it over hot coals, and I couldn’t drag enough air into my lungs. Maybe it was because every breath hurt.

  Every breath, every heartbeat, every blink. Normal bodily functions that all just hurt.

  Even my body hated me.

  I wiped my face again as the metro came into view. I’d made it, sort of.

  Six stops until I reached the station near my apartment, then a five-minute walk to my building.

  Six stops. Five minutes.

  I could survive for that long.

  “Get yourself together,” I hiccupped. “Before people call the cops on you.”

  I was already attracting a mix of alarmed and concerned looks from passersby. Talking to myself probably didn’t help.

  Luckily, the train arrived right as I entere
d the platform, so I didn’t have to wait. I chose the emptiest car and curled up in the corner, watching the dark tunnels rush by outside. My crazed reflection stared back at me from the opposite window—hair wild, black tracks of mascara running down my face, skin covered with blotches of bright red like I had a nasty case of hives.

  Did you really think so little of me that you thought I’d judge you for things you were manipulated into doing? That I wouldn’t have been on your side and took that fucker down with you?

  I closed my eyes, wishing with everything in me that I could turn back time and redo all my decisions regarding Max.

  I was supposed to be a lawyer. Logical, reasonable, strategic. But when it came to Max and Josh, I’d been anything but.

  How had I fucked up my own life so badly?

  I opened my eyes again, not wanting to spend too long in my thoughts. They would just torture me.

  Instead, I watched the metro stops pass by with a detached awareness.

  Tenleytown. Van Ness. Cleveland Park. Adams Morgan/Woodley Park.

  By the time I reached my stop and made the short trek from the station to The Mirage, my sobs had given way to a cold numbness.

  I walked through the dark, silent apartment, my steps unnaturally loud against the hardwood floors. Stella wasn’t home, so I didn’t have to field questions about why I looked like such a hot mess.

  All I wanted was to sleep the night away, but I managed to take a quick shower before I climbed into bed. My movements were stiff and mechanical, like I wasn’t truly there.

  I wish I weren’t.

  Despite the exhaustion pulling at my eyes, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I just stared at the ceiling and listened to the silence.

  Maybe it was my imagination, but a whiff of Josh’s cologne from the last time he slept over lingered. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend he was there, his face buried in my neck and his strong body cradling mine.

  You know, you’re the first guy I’ve been with in my room.

  First and last, Red.

  Possessive much?

  Damn right I am. I don’t like sharing.

  Sharing is a virtue, Josh.

  I don’t give a flying fuck. I don’t share. Not when it comes to you.

  Something warm and wet trickled down my cheek. Its saltiness teased my lips, and I realized I was crying again.

  Unlike my earlier sobs, these tears didn’t make a sound. They were quiet screams trapped in my chest, burrowing into my bones and suffocating me.

  I didn’t bother wiping them away. I just lay there, staring into the darkness and letting it eat me alive.

  48

  JULES

  The only good thing about my breakup with Josh was that it gave me more time and motivation to study for the bar. I was motivated before, but there was no push greater than the need to distract from a broken heart.

  I took the next week off from the clinic and used it for one last prep marathon.

  Wake up at seven a.m.

  Eat breakfast and shower.

  Video lectures and notes until noon.

  Lunch and a short break.

  Assignments and practice essays.

  Dinner and another break.

  Practice MBE (Multistate Bar Examination) questions.

  Sleep.

  I stuck to the same schedule every day, afraid that if I deviated, I would fall into a dark hole I couldn’t claw my way out of.

  Structure was good. Structure kept me from having to make decisions or think about anything other than what the next item in my to-do list was.

  Of course, that only lasted until I actually took the bar exam. After that…

  I stared at the sheet of paper before me.

  A husband and wife decided to start a bike shop with the wife’s brother. They filed a certificate of organization to form a limited liability company…rented a storefront commercial space…signed contract to purchase 150 bike tires…

  I blinked and shook my head before re-reading the setup more carefully. A migraine crept behind my temples, but I was almost at the finish line.

  After six hours of testing, this was my last question—for the first day, anyway. I still had the multiple-choice exam tomorrow, but I’d worry about that then.

  The scratch of my pencil filled my ears as I scribbled my notes down before typing my final responses into the computer.

  What type of LLC was created—member-managed or manager-managed? Explain.

  Is the LLC bound under the tire contract? Explain.

  And so on and so forth.

  I finished literally a minute before time was up. I submitted the test electronically and exited the testing site, waiting for a rush of relief or excitement. After so many years of school and months of studying, I was half finished with the exam that would determine the future of my career.

  But the rush never came.

  I just felt…empty.

  “I think I did okay,” a woman near me said into her phone. I recognized her as another attorney hopeful from the testing site. She laughed at whatever the person on the other end said. “Stop…yes, of course. Dinner tonight. I love you.”

  A lump of emotion clogged my throat.

  In an alternate universe, I would be on the phone with Josh, making plans to celebrate. Something low key, since tomorrow was still a test day, but knowing him, he’d turn it into a whole production.

  Dinner at my favorite restaurant, an at-home massage, sex to help me “relieve stress”...

  “You’ll use any excuse for sex, won’t you?” I teased. I took off my jacket and tossed it on the couch right before Josh grabbed my waist and spun me around.

  “Who says I need an excuse?” His cheek dimpled. “You want to fuck me all the time, Red. Admit it. But, since you mention it…” My breath hitched as he slid a palm up my thigh. “Completing half the bar exam is a big deal. It deserves to be celebrated.”

  “Does it?” I tried to maintain a poker face, but it was difficult when his thumb was rubbing circles over my skin like that.

  Heat burned low in my belly.

  “Mmmhmm.” Josh’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know what they say. All test and no reward makes Jules a very dull girl.”

  “Literally no one says that.”

  “I do, and I’m one of only two people who matter.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Now, about your reward…”

  The ding of the elevator shattered the fantasy into a million jagged pieces.

  I wasn’t in Josh’s living room after a romantic night out; I was in the cold hallway of a nondescript building downtown, my stomach cramping and my chest tight as I lost him.

  Again.

  Some stupid, naive part of me hoped Josh would magically show up and surprise me like we were starring in a cheesy rom com, but of course, he didn’t.

  My breaths picked up speed. The chill of the air conditioning burrowed into my bones, and the echo of footsteps against the marble floors took on a menacing note.

  I need to get out of here.

  Unfortunately, the open elevator was going up, not down, and the other elevator seemed to be stuck on the sixth floor.

  Instead of waiting, I pushed open the door to the stairwell. I was only on the third floor, so it was an easy enough walk down to the lobby.

  It seems only fitting for us to end things with a goodbye fuck.

  I’ll miss that tight pussy of yours, though. No one takes my cock better than you do. It’s your best quality.

  Fresh hurt sliced through me at the memory of his parting shot. Josh always knew which buttons to push, good or bad.

  But still, I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

  Come here, baby.

  You’re supposed to be in New Zealand.

  I’d rather be here.

  I hadn’t seen him since our breakup. He hadn’t swung by the clinic, and he’d ignored all my calls and texts. But if—

  “I need the painting back, Jules.”

  My head jer
ked up just in time to catch a glimpse of blue eyes and light brown hair before Max pinned me to the wall.

  I let out a small cry when my head banged against the concrete. My vision blurred at the impact, but I could still make out the harsh lines of Max’s expression.

  “I don’t have it,” I gasped. “I threw it away.”

  I didn’t want him going after Josh. Christian had promised to keep an eye on Josh in case Max’s “friends” tried to steal the painting again, but it wasn’t a sustainable solution.

  I hadn’t wanted to throw it away without returning it to Josh first. He deserved to know. But I told him the danger when I explained the situation the other night, and I hoped he was smart enough to get rid of the art before Max’s friends showed up at his doorstep.

  “Don’t lie, Jules. I always know when you’re lying.” Whiskey coated Max’s breath. There was no trace of the clean-cut, gentlemanly mask he liked to wear. Wild panic ran through his bloodshot eyes, and his lip was curled into an ugly sneer. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face and glistened beneath the stairwell’s fluorescent lights.

  He was near feral. Unhinged.

  My heart jackhammered in my chest, and a thick, pungent taste filled my mouth.

  It was the taste of fear.

  “They’re going to kill me if I don’t find it.” A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. “I need the painting back. You’re going to help me.”

  “I told you, I threw it away.” My heart raced so fast I might pass out.

  I could hear people’s footsteps outside the door—so close, yet so far away.

  Why is no one using the stairs, dammit?

  A scream of frustration trapped in my chest. Of all the days for me to take the stairs, which I never did, I had to choose today.

  I should’ve lied and gone along with Max’s plan until I could get help, but my oxygen supply ran scarce, and I couldn’t think properly.

  Besides, what if he hurt Josh? What if—

  “You stupid, fucking whore.” Max pressed his forearm against my throat until I gasped for air. I clawed at his hold, but he was too strong. “This is all your fault. You ruined my life. I asked you for one favor, Jules. One favor in exchange for seven years, and you couldn’t even do that.” His harsh breaths clouded my face in a haze of alcohol.