Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

Not a dream. 
I was actually here. There was the diner where my friends and I hung out
after school dances. There was the bowling alley where we took field trips in
elementary school, and the little antique shop with the creepy dolls in its
window. Everyone was convinced the shop was haunted, and we would run
every time we passed it, like the spirits who dwelled inside would reach out
and snatch us if we lingered too long.
Returning to Whittlesburg was like entering a time capsule. Other than a
shiny new chain restaurant and the cafe that had replaced old Sal’s
laundromat, it hadn’t changed a bit in the past seven years.
I ducked my head and ignored the curious stares of a group of high school
girls clustered on the street corner. By some miracle, I hadn’t run into anyone
I knew yet, but it would only be a matter of time. I dreaded the questions that
would arise once I did.
The thing about small towns was that they had long memories...for better
or for worse.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I reached my hotel. Forget finding
something to do in town. I just wanted to lock myself in my room, order
room service, and watch pay-per-view all night long.
I reached into my bag, searching for my—
“Hey, Red.”
I froze, my hand still half in my tote. Disbelief twisted my heart and
quickened its pace until every beat pounded in my head like a drum.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It couldn’t be him. Maybe the milkshake I’d gulped down at lunch
warped my brain and I was currently in the middle of a sugar-induced
hallucination. 
Because there was no way that was him.
But when I lifted my head, I saw his favorite gray sweatshirt. His worn
duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His distinctive dimple as his lips curved
into a smile so soft it obliterated all the edges of my resistance. 
“Surprise.” Josh’s voice seeped through me like warm honey. “Missed
me?”
“I—you…” My mouth opened and closed in what I presumed was a
deeply unflattering imitation of a goldfish. “You’re supposed to be in New
Zealand.” 

---

“Change of plans.” He shrugged with a casualness people reserved for a
change in dinner orders, not international flights. “I’d rather be here.”
“Why?” 
Thudthudthud. Was it normal for a human heart to beat this fast? 
“I want to visit the crochet museum.”
Maybe I fell asleep at the funeral home and entered the Twilight Zone,
because this was too absurd to be reality. “What?” 
“The crochet museum,” he repeated. “It’s world famous.”
Whittlesburg’s crochet museum was the town’s biggest attraction, but it
wasn’t world famous by any stretch of the imagination. 
The Eiffel Tower, Machu Picchu, Great Wall of China…and the Betty
Jones Crochet Museum? Yeah, no. 
“World famous, huh?” Something strange and fluttery was happening in
my stomach. I never wanted it to stop.
“Yep.” Josh’s dimple deepened. “Read about it in a magazine in an
airport, and I was so inspired I changed flights last minute. I’ll take crochet
over sailing the Milford Sound any day.”
A knot of emotion lodged itself in my throat. “Well, far be it for me to
question your love for crochet.” Do not cry in the lobby. “Are you staying at
this hotel?”
“Depends.” Josh stuffed his hand in his pocket, his eyes never leaving
mine. “Do you want me to stay here?” 
A small, scared part of me wanted to say no. It would be so easy to run up
to my room and lock myself in there until my mom’s funeral, then leave and
pretend the trip never happened.
But I was so tired of running. So tired of fighting the world and myself at
the same time, of pretending everything was okay when I struggled just to
keep my head above water.
It was okay to reach for a life raft, no matter what form it came in. 
Mine happened to come in the form of Josh Chen.
I dipped my head in a small nod, not trusting myself to speak. 
His face softened. “Come here, Red.” 
That was all I needed. 
I flew to him and buried my face in his chest while his arms closed
around me. He smelled like soap and citrus, and his sweatshirt was soft
against my cheek. 
The curious stares of the receptionist and other hotel guests burned into

---

my side. We would be the subject of town gossip by tomorrow, no doubt, but
I didn’t care.
For the first time since I landed in Ohio, I could breathe.

---

36

---

JOSH
I 
HADN
’
T
PLANNED
TO
FLY
TO
O
HIO
.
I made it all the way to the airport for my New Zealand flight, but when
boarding started, all I could think about was Jules. What she was doing, how
she was doing, whether she’d landed safely. The hikes and activities I’d spent
months planning held as much interest to me as watching paint dry.
So, instead of flying to my number two bucket list destination (after
Antarctica), I’d headed straight to the ticket counter and bought the next
flight to Columbus.
Trading New Zealand for Whittlesburg. I was truly fucked in the head,
and I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad about it.
“Gird your loins,” Jules said as we made a left onto a quiet, tree-lined
street. “You’re about to get your mind blown.”
After I dropped off my bag, I’d convinced her to join me on my museum
outing. Perhaps I should’ve chosen a more interesting excuse than a crochet
museum, but I read about it on my bus ride from Columbus and it was listed
as the town’s top attraction. That had to count for something, right?
My eyebrows rose. “Did you just use the phrase gird your loins? What
are you, eighty?”
“For your information, Stanley Tucci’s character uses it in The Devil