Twisted Love (Twisted, #1)

by Ana Huang

But just because things could be worse didn’t mean they didn’t suck. Stop. Think positive thoughts.

So, this is how I sound handling myself.

I sat in the corner and daydreamed about all the places I would love to visit but would probably never get to.

It’s always nice to meet fictional people with same issues as me

“I hope you’re not waiting for me to open the door for you,”

tf OPEN ITTT

All I knew was Alex’s parents had died when he was young and left him a pile of money he’d quadrupled the value of when he came into his inheritance at age eighteen. Not that he’d needed it, because he’d invented a new financial modeling software in high school that made him a multimillionaire before he could vote.

Sorry and good for you!

Alex and Josh had been best friends since they roomed together at Thayer eight years ago, and Alex had joined my family for Thanksgiving and assorted holidays every year since, but I still didn’t know him.

fair

“It might help with your condition.” “What condition?” Alex sounded bored. “Stickuptheassitis.” I’d already called the man an asshole, so what was one more insult? I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he responded with a bland, “No. The condition is chronic.”

lol

Not hard-core BDSM, but not soft. No kissing, no face-to-face contact.

So rough without kissing?

But Josh was my best friend—one of the few people whose company I could stand for more than an hour at a time—and

🫂

Most laughs—hell, most people—were fake. They woke up every morning and put on a mask according to what they wanted that day and who they wanted the world to see. They smiled at people they hated, laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, and kissed the asses of those they secretly hoped to dethrone. I wasn’t judging. Like everyone else, I had my masks, and they ran layers deep. But unlike everyone else, I had as much interest in ass-kissing and small talk as I did in injecting bleach into my veins.

Men. My gender could use a little more standards and a little less thinking with their small heads.

True

It was the way she carried herself, like she’d seen it all—the good, the bad, the downright ugly—and still believed in goodness. It was as stupid as it was admirable.

Why is it stupid, though?

Ava was nothing but feelings, with a hint of sass.

Still, I'd rather keep my feelings and sass.

I didn’t make a lot of promises, but when I did, I kept them. Committed myself to them.

GOOD!

Sixteen years might seem like a long time, but I specialize in the long game.

“I don’t see a point in collecting items I don’t use and don’t enjoy.”

Well, true. But who tf hates photos????

I have hyperthymesia, or HSAM. Highly superior autobiographical memory. Look it up.”

◕_◕

I was nervous, yes, and a bit terrified. But I’d also never felt more alive.

Work had been a bitch, and I’d needed this release to reset.

Maybe I also should try the gym and get into self-defense.

Self-defense is a skill you never want to use but that could mean the difference between life and death when you do have to use it.

Yeah, I'm gonna sign up. But where?

Plus, when I commit to something, I commit to it one hundred percent. No half-assery or phoning it in.

pretty sure that's what committing means

I’d come close to doing it once, but part of me liked the fact that I wasn’t the best—yet. It gave me a goal to strive toward. But I would win. I always did.

If she was ignoring me, she was in deep shit. And if she was hurt, I would bury the person responsible six feet beneath the ground. In pieces.

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I wouldn’t put anything past Miss Sunshine and Roses. That bleeding heart of hers would land her in a heap of trouble one day.

People keep saying this. I don't wanna be mean.

I didn’t mind silence. I craved it.

“All the fun stuff happens while I’m away.”

Fr

she said the “anonymity” of the internet made it easier to be herself online.

“anonymity”??? of the internet???

He was a multimillionaire executive with a genius-level IQ; I was a college student who worked two jobs and ate cereal for dinner.

I can see Ava in me. Where's my Alex?

“No.” I was tired of saying that word.

Girl, same

Operation Emotion was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted experiment, but it made me nervous, and not just because it erred on the side of mean-spirited.

Having fun with testing someone's feelings? lighthearted???

She’d read online that it helped with nightmares and started making it for me a few months ago.

Okay. I think I'm starting to like Joules regardless of her bad taste in experiments.

“I’m already up. Besides, it’s almost five. I bet there are dozens of overambitious, Lululemon-wearing fitness junkies jogging outside right now.”

lol

“You know me. I’d never say something was okay if I wasn’t actually okay with it.”

Same, but I can't do this with work. Someone give me a tutorial.

“Give me a holler if you need anything, okay? I’m right down the hall, and I don’t leave for work until seven.”

Yeah, I like Joules

the past is never past, and the future never unfolds the way we want it to.

Most people didn’t drink espresso this late for fear of not being able to sleep, but I didn’t have that problem. I could never sleep.

Come over. I'll give you my meds. Have to warn you, though, they only work for a time, and then you get used to them. Then you have to try something else or lose your mind for a while to get "unused" to them.

It baffled me that people still didn’t get it. Personal appeals had no place in the corporate world. It was eat or be eaten, and I for one had no grand aspirations of becoming prey.

I do get it in theory but have trouble putting it into practice.

I tired of hearing my name. It was always Alex this, Alex that. People begging for time, money, attention or, worst of all, affection. It was a fucking chore. It really was.

Maybe Jules is right. You need to be more human.

Archer Group was a real estate development company, but in five, ten, twenty years, it’d be so much more. Telecommunications, e-commerce, finance, energy…the world was ripe for my taking.

Impressive

I blocked Andrew’s number for good measure and made a mental note to fire my assistant for allowing my personal cell information to slip into the hands of someone outside my tightly controlled contacts list. She’d already fucked up several times—paperwork with errors, appointments scheduled for the wrong times, missed calls from VIPs—and this was the last straw.

So the successor of the position is Ava right?

I didn’t meditate, but this was my own fucked-up form of therapy.

Sounds like maladaptive daydreaming

I didn’t care about birthdays. They were meaningless, dates on a calendar that people celebrated because it made them feel special when, in reality, they weren’t special at all. How could birthdays be special when everyone had one?

So, it's not about comparing with everyone else. It's about "your" days on planet earth. Out of all the days in a year, the day you came here is worthy of celebration. Idiot.

I hated my “gift.” But short of carving out my brain, I couldn’t do anything about it, so I learned to live it with it. And one day, I would weaponize it.

Good idea!

People never used to do that. But ever since my family’s murder, they acted differently. When I looked at them, they would look away—not because they pitied me but because they feared me, some base survival instinct deep inside them screaming at them to run and never look back.

Okay, how do you know they looked away because they feared you?

That was the moment I’d found my purpose, and I’d replayed it every day for fourteen years.

Those therapists didn’t get it. I didn’t want to heal. I wanted to burn. I wanted to bleed. I wanted to feel every scorching lick of pain.

Pain? You wanted to feel pain? Haven't you felt enough of it?

I figured looking good couldn’t hurt if I was angling for an unannounced evening moviethon with Alex.

A what now? Idk if you are brave or just don't get embarrassed.

I skipped Titanic and brought out the big guns: A Walk to Remember (sadder than The Notebook) and Marley & Me.

I think I'm heartless. I didn't cry to Titanic. And I need to watch the other two.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

yep

Being upset was exhausting, and I had better things to do with my time,

Right? I would just never give them the same energy I used to give them. Avoiding people also takes a lot of work that I don't feel like putting into people who've upset me. But clearly not you, considering you are right at his doorstep.

“Tell me why you’re here, Ava. Is someone bothering you?”

Is this like part of doing a favor for your best friend, or do you actually care?