EWB (Enemies With Benefits)

“But don’t get any ideas. Just because I wanna spend forever with you and don’t hate you anymore doesn’t mean I like you or anything.”
I laughed, so much in love. “Good, just because I said yes doesn’t mean I like you or anything either.”

“How long have you been planning to ask me . . . since when?”
His eyes were smiling. “Remember when we were in the Under 10s at that rugby carnival and you smashed me over the sideline to win the game?”
I laughed. “Liar. You have not planned it since then. You hated me for that.”
He chuckled. “Okay, so maybe it was that night when you shoved me into the bathroom stall.”
I snorted. “You hated me for that too.”
He sighed happily. “I don’t hate you anymore,”

I fucking hated that I loved him.

“I said it, and you know what? I’m not sorry. And it’s your fucking fault. You made me fall in love with you with the whole I-want-you-to-come-inside-me thing. Like what was I supposed to do? Not fall in love with you?”
He barked out a snotty laugh. “Oh my god.”

I’d gone and fallen in love for the first time in my life.
I was in love. So in love.
With Marshall fucking Wise.
God help me.

How was a hug so healing? I’d been so touch starved, so affection starved, kindness starved for so long that a simple hug felt like oxygen after struggling to breathe.

Marshall slid his hand along my jaw, kissing me softly, before pulling me in for a long, warm hug. “I don’t hate you, Valentine.”
I nodded into his neck. “I don’t hate you either.”

He kissed my lips softly. “I just want you to be happy. I want you to know how important you are to a lot of people. How important you are to me.”
I smiled sadly. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
“Uh, you shoved me into a toilet cubicle and sucked my dick.”
That made me smile. “And if I got a redo, I’d do it again.”

Admitting that I needed him was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

“You’re supposed to hate me. That was the deal. You’re supposed to hate me.”
“I do,” I murmured.
Valentine recoiled, confused.
Close to breaking.
“I hate a lot of things about you,” I said quietly. “I hate that you think so little of yourself when I think you’re kinda great. I hate that your parents cast you aside and use you, and they make you feel worthless when everything you do is for them. I hate that you put up these walls of ice like you need to protect yourself. I hate that you—”
Valentine thumped his chest, a tear spilling down his cheek. “Me. You’re supposed to hate me!”
“I hate that I don’t hate you anymore.”