Twisted Hate (Twisted, 3)

After Jules stormed off, I squeezed in one run down the advanced ski slope before I met up with Alex and Ava for lunch.

I assumed Jules had returned to the lodge after our failed ski lesson, but the fourth spot at the table was conspicuously empty.

I eyed it, distractedly answering Ava’s questions about how my morning went, before I asked, “Where’s the redheaded menace? Off sticking pins in a voodoo doll somewhere?”

Considering the way she’d stomped off, I wouldn’t be surprised if the voodoo doll was of me.

I didn’t know what possessed me to offer her ski lessons in the first place. I blamed it on the mountain air and the champagne I’d imbibed on the flight, but spending a morning with Jules hadn’t been as terrible as I’d expected. Plus, it’d been worth it for her reaction alone when I asked how badly she wanted to fuck me.

My mouth tugged up at the memory of Jules’s crimson cheeks. She could deny it all she wanted, but she’d thought about it. I’d seen it in her eyes, felt in the shallow rise and fall of her chest against mine.

She hadn’t been the only one thinking impure thoughts.

Our fall had been an accident, but the way her curves molded to my body had been a revelation. We’d both been bundled up in winter clothing, but in my mind, we might as well have been naked. I could picture it so vividly—her silky skin, her lush curves, her aggravating snark melting into a moan as I fucked her senseless…

Fuck.

I snapped open my napkin and placed it over my lap. My cock strained against my zipper, and I prayed neither Alex nor Ava noticed my uneven breaths as I reached for my glass again.

I didn’t know what was in the air that made me fantasize about Jules so much today, but it was fucking with my head. I’d been this close to doing something crazy earlier, like—

“She texted and said she’s not feeling well.” Ava sipped her water, her expression cagey. “She’s resting at the cabin.”

My arousal cooled at the new information. “She was fine an hour ago.”

Alex arched an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

Shit. “I, uh, ran into her on the slopes.”

“Jules said she didn’t go skiing.” Suspicion flared in Ava’s eyes. “She stayed at the lodge after she picked up her phone from the cabin.”

Double shit. “Maybe she went to the ski run first, then changed her mind.” I lifted my shoulders in what I hoped was a casual shrug. “Who knows? Her mind works in strange ways.”

A tiny smirk touched Alex’s mouth.

Luckily, the waiter arrived and saved me from further interrogation. After we placed our orders, I shifted the conversation to Ava’s latest assignment at World Geographic magazine, where she worked as a junior photographer. Nothing animated her more than talking about photography.

I half-listened as my sister rambled on about her project documenting the city’s street art scene. I loved her, but I gave zero shits about photography.

My eyes strayed again to Jules’s empty seat. Knowing her, she had a minor headache and was claiming near-death symptoms.

Probably.

Maybe.

She’s fine. I cut into my chicken with unnecessary force.

Whether Jules was being her usual dramatic self by forgoing lunch or actually dying, I didn’t care. It had absolutely nothing to do with me.

By the time lunch ended, I’d pushed Jules out of my mind…for the most part. I didn’t blink when Ava left to check on Jules and bring her lunch, but my muscles knotted when she insisted Alex and I hit the slopes without her.

I’d avoided one-on-one interactions with Alex all morning. It seemed my luck had run out.

I fixed my eyes on the horizon as we walked toward the triple black diamond, our conversation consisting of nothing more than the soft crunch of our boots in the snow.

We’d exchanged a few sentences here and there at lunch, but Ava and I had dominated the discussion while Alex ate quietly.

That had always been our dynamic, even before our falling out. I talked, he listened. I was the extrovert, and he was the introvert. Ava used to jokingly call us yin and yang.

I could say the same for her relationship with Alex. Her sunny optimism was as far removed from Alex’s icy cynicism as the sun was from the moon, but they somehow made it work.

“Fifty bucks says Ava stays with Jules and doesn’t join us,” Alex said as we approached the ski run.

I snorted. “No bet. Jules always drags her into shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if we returned to the cabin and found the place on fire.”

Unless, of course, Jules really was incapacitated. Ava hadn’t elaborated on what she’d meant when she said Jules “wasn’t feeling well.”

Was it a migraine? A stomachache? Was she hurt after she’d crashed into me earlier?

Worry clawed up my throat before I forced it back down. She’d stomped off well enough after my joke. She was fine. If she wasn’t, Ava would’ve freaked out more.

Before Alex could answer, our phones emitted simultaneous pings. We checked our messages, and I shook my head when I read the texts.

Ava: I’m staying with Jules for a bit. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you at dinner.

Ava: Have fun! xx

“You called it.” I pocketed my cell. I wasn’t sure whether Jules needed Ava to stay with her, or if this was another one of Ava’s attempts to force me and Alex to make up. Probably both. “What’s up with Jules, anyway? Ava didn’t say.” I kept my tone as casual as possible.

“I didn’t ask.”

Of course he didn’t. Alex only cared about two people, and both their names started with an A.

“Well, I’m sure she’s okay.” I slid my goggles off my head and over my eyes.

“You seem unusually concerned with her well-being. I thought you hated her.”

My spine turned rigid at the implication. “I’m not, and I do.”

“Right.”

I ignored his knowing glance and angled my head down the hill. “Race you to the bottom.”

It was part olive branch, part distraction. I’d been handing out a lot of those lately. But if I could thaw my relationship with Jules—only a little bit, for short bursts of time—perhaps I could do the same with Alex.

It didn’t mean I forgave him. I had no trouble holding onto a grudge, but actively hating someone was exhausting, especially when you were stuck in close proximity to them for an extended period of time. And these days, I was just so damn tired all the time. Even when I was physically fine, I was mentally exhausted.

Life chipped away at me, bit by bit, and I didn’t know how to reclaim any of the pieces I lost.

Surprise passed through Alex’s face before the tiniest of smiles graced his lips. “Loser buys drinks for the rest of the weekend.”

“Considering I’m a struggling medical resident and you’re a fucking millionaire, I’m getting the short end of the stick,” I grumbled.

“Don’t insult me. I’m a billionaire,” he said. “But if you have that little faith in your skiing ability…” He shrugged. “We can call it off.”

I scowled. I hated his reverse psychology bullshit, yet I always fell for it. “I have plenty of faith in my athleticism, desk jockey.” I held out my hand. “It’s a deal.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, unperturbed by the desk jockey insult. He made a shit ton of money sitting behind his desk, so I guess I wouldn’t be bothered either if I were him.

He shook my hand with a competitive glint in his eyes. “Deal.”

And just like that, we were off.

We were both pros at skiing, so it didn’t take us long before we were flying down the hill.

We weren’t supposed to ski such a difficult run at such high speed, but neither of us had ever given a damn about such rules.

My stress from work, my tension with Alex, my disturbing new fixation with Jules….they all melted away as I entered my element.

Adrenaline pumped in my veins, fueled by the wind whipping against my face and the cold air stealing into my lungs. My heart was a wild animal uncaged, my senses sharpened blades that picked up on every detail of the world around me—the flecks of snow spraying up at me, the whistle of the wind and the quiet roar of my heart, every bump and ridge as I tore down my first triple black diamond.

A black-clad figure whizzed by me.

Alex.

My face split into a grin as my competitiveness kicked up another notch. I drove pressure onto the tip of my outside ski and blew past him.

I thought I heard Alex laugh behind me, but the wind carried the sound away before it fully reached my ears.

I made a tight turn around a jutting rock, then another hairpin turn to follow the path of the run. Most people would freak out going this fast on a triple black, but for me, nothing beat the rush of escaping death by the skin of my teeth.

Between Ava’s near-drowning, my mom’s suicide, and the people I saved—and couldn’t save—in the emergency room, Death and I were old acquaintances. I hated the bastard, and every time I survived one of my escapades, it was a metaphorical fuck you to the reaper.

One of these days, he would catch me as he did everyone else. But not today.

More turns. More obstacles that, if I were a less experienced skier, would’ve landed me in the ER as a patient instead of a doctor. I took each one as they came, never slowing down, though I didn’t go quite as fast as I would on a normal slope.

Alex and I kept roughly the same pace until the end, when I beat him to the bottom of the trail by less than five seconds.

Satisfaction filled my lungs. “Looks like drinks are on you this weekend.” I pushed my goggles back up my head, my chest heaving with exertion. “Good thing you’re a billionaire with a b, because I’m asking the bartender for the most expensive drink they serve. Every time.”

“Not yet.” Alex narrowed his eyes. It was always hilarious seeing his reaction when he lost because it happened so infrequently. “Best out of three.”

“Changing the rules after the fact.” I tsked in disappointment. “You’re a sore fucking loser, Volkov.”

“I don’t lose.”

“What do you call what just happened?” I gestured at the steep, winding trail behind us.

Rare mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Alternative winning.”

“Oh, fuck off with that bullshit.” But I couldn’t help laughing.

Since I wasn’t one to ever turn down a challenge, I agreed to the best of three, though I regretted it when Alex beat me by a minute on the second run.

The third run was even closer than our first. We were literally neck to neck until the last second, when I pulled ahead by a hair.

A smug grin bloomed on my face, and I opened my mouth before Alex cut me off.

“Don’t say a word,” he warned.

“Wasn’t going to.” My expression said it all.

“Don’t feel bad.” I clapped him on the back as we walked back to the lodge for dinner. “There’s no shame in alternative winning. Just ask any silver medalist.”

“I don’t feel bad. If I do, I’ll just buy myself a gold medal. Twenty-four karats, Cartier.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Always.”

I shook my head with a laugh. I hadn’t hung out with Alex in so long I’d forgotten how fucked up his sense of humor was, though I was one of the few people who even considered it humor. Most people chalked his deadpan deliveries up to him being a dick, which…well, fair enough. Ava used to call him a robot—

My smile disappeared.

Ava. Michael. Kidnapping and secrets and thousands of lies that tainted every memory of our friendship.

That afternoon had been our closest to normal in a long time, and I’d almost forgotten why Alex and I were no longer friends.

Almost.

Alex must’ve picked up on the shift in atmosphere because his smile faded alongside mine and his jaw visibly tightened.

Tension descended like an iron curtain between us.

I wished I could forget what happened and start over. I had plenty of friends, but I’d only ever had one best friend, and sometimes I missed him so damn much it hurt.

But I wasn’t the same person I was two years ago, and neither was Alex. I didn’t know how to move on no matter how much I wanted to. Every time I made progress, the yoke of the past yanked me back like a jealous mistress.

And yet, our ski competition proved Alex and I could act normal around each other even when Ava wasn’t there. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

“I had a good time today,” I said stiffly, testing the waters for myself as much as for Alex.

A beat passed before he responded. I’d surprised him again. Twice in one day—that had to be a record. “I did too.”

We didn’t speak again after that.