Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

particular experience more times than I could count—but the look on his face
when he told me his patient died. The way he’d kissed me, soft yet desperate,
like he craved comfort but couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. And the way
he’d looked when he left, like he bore the weight of the world on his
shoulders.
They were thoughts I shouldn’t have. There was no room for them in our
arrangement, but that didn’t stop them from occupying space in my head
rent-free.
“Stop it, Jules,” I ordered as I walked toward the park where the
hospital’s all-staff picnic took place. “Get it together.” 
A nearby family gave me a strange look and quickened their steps until
they passed me.
Great. Now I was talking to myself and scaring off parents and children. 
I released a deep sigh and tried to tame the flutter of nerves in my
stomach when I neared the park entrance. 
It was a picnic, for God’s sake. I only agreed to come because there was
free food, and I never turned down free food. It wasn’t like it was a real
date.
A breeze swept past and blew my dress up around my waist. 
“Shit!” I hastily pushed down the billowing cotton, already regretting my
outfit choice. It was finally warm enough for dresses again, but my weather
app had fucked me over once again and failed to mention how windy it was.
I’ll have to spend the entire day holding down my skirt unless I wanted

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everyone at Thayer Hospital to find out what color underwear I wore. 
“Flashing people already? We haven’t even gotten you drunk yet.” Josh’s
lazy drawl drifted into my ears. 
I looked up to find him leaning against the entrance, arms folded across
his chest. There was no trace of the tension and grief that lined his face in the
library. Instead, a sly grin dimpled his cheeks, and a faint glow of amusement
lit his eyes as they skimmed over me from head to toe. 
Relief kindled in my chest. Cocky Josh was a pain in my ass, but for
reasons I’d rather not examine, I preferred him being a pain to being in pain. 
“This is a family picnic, Chen,” I said as I approached him. “No alcohol
allowed.”
“Since when did you become such a prude?” He gave my braid a light tug
and laughed when I swatted his hand away. “Braid, flats, white dress.” His
second, slower perusal triggered another cascade of flutters that filled my
chest and tickled the base of my throat. Maybe one of the kind doctors at the
picnic could perform an impromptu checkup, because my internal organs
were clearly malfunctioning. “Who are you and what have you done to
Red?” 
“It’s called a versatile wardrobe. You’d know if you had taste.” I returned
his scrutiny with a pointed one of my own, though in hindsight, that was a
bad idea. 
A short-sleeved green shirt stretched across the muscled ridge of Josh’s
shoulders and offset his tan. His jeans weren’t tight, but they were fitted
enough to show off the long, powerful lines of his legs, and he’d tamed his
normally tousled hair into a neat coif. That, combined with his aviators,
exuded an Old Hollywood movie star during a casual day out on town vibe
that was more appealing than it had any right to be.
“Versatility doesn’t equal taste.” Josh placed a hand on the small of my
lower back and guided me into the park. Tingles gathered at the base of my
spine and radiated outward until they blanketed every inch of my skin. “Even
I know that.”
“Whatever.” I was too distracted by the traitorous tingles to formulate a
better comeback. “You’re one to talk about taste. Look at the painting in your
bedroom.”
“What’s wrong with the painting?”
“It’s hideous.”
“It’s not hideous. It’s unusual. The guy I bought it from said it used to

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belong to a famous collector.”
I rolled my eyes. “It belonged to a famous collector and somehow ended
up in your hands? Okay, sure. On that note, I have something I’d like to sell
you. It’s called the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Don’t be a hater. Not everyone can have the same discerning eye for
art.”
“Someone call Roget’s Thesaurus. Apparently, discerning is now a
synonym for appalling.”
Josh laughed, unfazed by my insults. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,
Red. Missed that poisonous tongue of yours.”
My smile faded at the reminder of why I’d been in such a terrible mood at
the library. I’d received yet another “reminder” text from Max that morning. I
could call him out on his bluff, but I didn’t think he was bluffing. Max loved
toying with people, but when push came to shove, he had no qualms about
throwing anyone under the bus.
When added to the stress from school, bar prep, and Bridget’s upcoming
wedding, it was too much. I’d cried over my textbooks in the library like an
idiot and messaged Josh in the heat of the moment for a distraction. 
I’d gathered myself by the time he arrived, but I didn’t regret texting him.
His presence had been oddly therapeutic, and what he did in the stacks…
My toes curled. 
“What about you?” I asked. I hadn’t been the only one in a shitty mood.
“How are you feeling?” 
A shadow crossed his face before it melted into another flippant smile.
“I’m great. Why?”
“It’s okay to grieve,” I said, not fooled by his insouciance. I didn’t want
to poke at his wounds, but I knew how destructive bottled-up emotions could
be. “Even if it’s over something that’s part of your job.”
Josh’s smile dimmed, and his throat flexed with a hard swallow before he
looked away.
“Let’s grab something to eat,” he said. “I’m starving.” 
I took the hint and dropped the issue. Everyone handled grief differently.
I wasn’t going to force him to talk about something he wasn’t ready or
willing to discuss.
“So, who’s staffing the hospital while everyone is here?” I changed the
subject to something lighter.
Josh’s rigid shoulders relaxed. “Essential staff is still there, but they’re

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rotating shifts so everyone has a chance to swing by the picnic,” he said.
“This is the only all-staff event we have besides our holiday party, so it’s a
big deal.”
“Jules!” A beautiful, familiar-looking brunette beamed when we arrived
at the food table. “So nice to see you. I didn’t realize Josh was bringing a
date.”
“It’s not a date,” Josh and I chorused. 
A short pause followed, during which the brunette’s already wide grin
broadened.
“Of course. My bad.” She held out her hand, her eyes twinkling with
humor. “I’m Clara. We sort of met at The Bronze Gear.”
Recognition slammed into me. “You were Josh’s date.”
They worked together? And they were apparently on good terms, judging
by the ease with which they greeted each other. 
A horrifying tendril of jealousy snaked around my gut and squeezed.