Addicted to You (29 page)

I nod quickly. “Can I have my hands back?”

“No.” He rubs his fingers on the outside of my panties, not pushing in. I shake beneath him. “So when he returns,” Lo says, “are you going to kick him out?”

“What?” He stops the friction between my legs.
No, no, no.
“Lo…”

“I want to know if he’s really here for comics, Lily. Is that the last time we’re going to see him?”

I bite my lip, and he sees straight through me.

“What’d you do?” he breathes, his hands tightening on my wrists. The pressure feels better than it should.

Telling the truth will be a defeat I do not want to claim just yet. So I think on my toes. “He wants to write an article about us…about what it’s like to be the children of consumer moguls. And I said yes because I owed him, and I knew…I knew you wouldn’t agree because he has to follow us around. So I thought the Comic-Con lie would help introduce him to you...”

Lo stares at me with cold, narrowed eyes, and he drops my hands, taking four steps back from me. “He has to follow us around?”

I nod. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you—”

“You know why I would have said no?” He points to his chest. “I hate having to hide alcohol. You don’t get it because sex is something we do in private.”

I frown. “Like you mauling me in front of Ryke? That was private?”

Lo shakes his head. “The most he’ll think is that I’m a horny guy, Lil. He won’t connect that you’re a sex addict. And I don’t need him fucking writing about our problems in a published article for my father to see.”

“It’s for a class grade,” I lie. The article doesn’t even exist! But it’s the best excuse I have to validate Ryke hanging around us. “He won’t publish it.”

“And you believed him when he told you that? It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!” I refute, my eyes welling with tears. I’ve never tried this hard to guide him towards a good place, and it’s breaking me apart inside. “ImsorryImsorryImsorry,” I slur.

His face shatters and he closes the space between us. “Hey…” His voice softens. He holds my cheeks and wipes the tears with his thumb. “We can tell him that we’re not interested anymore.”

I shake my head and choke on a sob. “No…” Why can’t this be easier? I want to be able to tell Lo to stop, but he won’t. No matter what I say, he’ll keep drinking. This feels like my only option.

“Why not?”

“I promised,” I say. “Please…let me…let me keep it.” These emotions need to end. I start to drown in them, and so I focus on things that always make me feel better. I kiss him lightly on the lips.

He kisses back. And then his lips leave mine. He has a hand on the back of my head, and he stares at me like we should talk more, but I’d rather do other things.

I unbutton his jeans.

“Lily…” he says, very softly.

I unzip and yank them down. “Don’t speak.” I’m about to drop to my knees, but he grabs my elbow.

“Lily…” His amber eyes glass over. Is he about to tell me to stop?

I frown in confusion. “What?”

After a long moment, he whispers, “Nothing.” He releases his hold, and I watch his cheeks sharpen to ice. My knees hit the floorboards, and I pull down his boxer-briefs in a systematic routine. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, and I try to forget the sadness in his eyes, the kind that can call on silent tears.

I try to remember the passion, the fire, and for this moment, I make sure to drown him in pleasure.

Our relationship is dangling on thin strings that threaten to break. I feel it. I’m sure he feels it as well. His biggest worry was being able to satisfy me, but that’s hardly a problem. Our selfishness wedges between us. Neither of us is willing to give up what we love for each other. Not yet. And I’m not sure what it’s going to take to let go of our addictions.

By Sunday, a thunderstorm confines us indoors, and Connor drops by unannounced—for no reason at all other than to share a beer with Lo. I’m starting to believe he likes hanging around us. After arguing who would win a game of chess, Lo and Connor crack out a board and play between chatter and sips of beer.

I flip through a Cosmo magazine on the chair, reading about new sex positions. I realize what’s important to me may not be important to other girls. And I’m okay with that. Sex is something I genuinely love. In my case, probably too much.

Rain patters against the windows, and I ignore texts from my sisters about missing the luncheon. I also find Ryke on Facebook and send him a quick message about the new lie. When I scroll through my phone, I see his response.

And he bought it?

I type back.
Yeah. I think so.

“You shouldn’t make that move,” Connor tells Lo, pointing to his rook. “There’s clearly a better one.”

Lo takes his fingers off the rook and scrutinizes the board set on the coffee table.

A new message pops up.
Is he drinking right now?

Beer.

Connor leans forward in the chair opposite the couch, hunching over the pieces. He points to the bishop. “That’s the better move.”

“How about you play your own game, and I’ll play mine?” Lo shifts the rook.

I glance down at Ryke’s word bubble.
I’m coming over.

My stomach churns. Lo never really accepted the idea of Ryke following us around, but I burst into tears, so he hasn’t denied the idea either for my sake. Everything just feels strained and messy.

I send,
Now?

See you in twenty.

I internally groan.

Connor slides over a measly pawn. “Check.”

“What?” Lo gapes. “But that…Oh.” He rolls his eyes. “There’s no way for me to win, is there?”

Connor smiles as he picks up his beer. “I’d say you could win the next one, but you won’t.”

Lo forfeits by flicking over his king.

And then the buzzer chimes. I stiffen. Can he be here already? No. He said it would take twenty minutes, not twenty
seconds
. Right? I glance back at the messages and realize he never specified. Oh, I’m so not ready for this.

I shake off nervous jitters and go to the foyer. I feel Lo’s eyes on me all the way there.

“Want another beer?” Lo asks Connor.

“Sure.”

Lo stands and acts casual as he opens the fridge in the kitchen.

I press the button on the speaker box. “Hello?”

“Miss Calloway, Rose is here to see you.”

I relax and press the button. “You can send her up.”

“Rose?” Connor heard the security attendant’s voice.

My eyes widen. I forgot Rose dislikes Connor. “Uh…yeah.”

Amusement swims in Connor’s bright blue eyes. “She’s not going to be pleased to see me.”

Lo hands him a beer and finds his seat on the couch. “Join the fucking club. She hates me, and yet she keeps torturing herself by showing up here.”

“Don’t be rude,” I warn both of them. At the end of the day, she’s still my sister and I love her no matter what any boys say.

Lo mumbles something into his…whiskey. He must have just switched. I worry that I’m not trying hard enough like Ryke says, but the only way to stop him from drinking is to become a needy girlfriend and make him focus on my addiction. So far, it has only put tension in our relationship.

I’m afraid that he’s going to start resenting me for keeping him from something he enjoys.

So I let him drink his whiskey until an abrasive knock pounds on the door. With two deep, motivational breaths, I turn the knob. “Hey.”

Rose stands with a sopping umbrella. She shrugs off her fur coat, revealing a high-collared black and white dress that fits her slender frame. Her normally straight hair frizzes on the sides and sticks out in strange places.

“It’s hailing,” she says with scorn.

“Really? I thought it was just raining.”

“It was until I stepped out of the car.” She comes inside and places the umbrella in the corner and hangs her coat on a hook. I wonder how much longer I can stall her by the foyer to lengthen her inevitable view of Connor.

She runs her fingers through her hair. “Do you have coffee?”

“Yeah, I’ll get you a cup.” I lead her towards the kitchen, but she detaches halfway there, her head whipping over to the adjacent living room.

“What?!” she shrieks. “Lily Calloway, you did not invite
him
over here without telling me first.”

Lo interjects, “Last time I checked, Rose, your name wasn’t on the lease agreement. You don’t have a say in who comes over to
our
apartment.”

Rose turns her back on the guys. “What is
Richard
doing here?” she hisses.

“He just showed up.” I hand her a steaming mug and put a hand on her back, guiding her to the living room.

Lo flashes
her a
dry smile. “Does that remind you of someone?”

“Shut up,” Rose snaps. “Do not compare me to
him.
”

Connor rises like a good prep school boy, and Rose stands her ground while I grab my magazine and scoot in beside Lo. I’ve circled some of the positions I want to try with red magic marker like the Spank Me Maybe, Mission Control and Wild Ride. Lo points to the most submissive of the three, a picture of a guy pulling the girl’s ponytail as she straddles him backwards, and he whispers, “Later.”

If only Ryke would
not
show up today.

Lo sips his whiskey.

On second thought, maybe it’s a good thing he is.

I glance back at Connor and Rose and realize they’ve been pretty much silent. They just stare at each other for a really, really long time, as though talking through their eyes.

“Is this what smart people do?” I whisper to Lo.

“They must have some superhuman telepathic power that we don’t have.” He adjusts so my head rests against the hardness of his chest, the warmth enveloping me further. I kinda, sorta, really want them to leave so Lo can take me in surprise.

“Is this still about last year?” Connor asks with a growing smile. “Just because you didn’t know Williams wrote
Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy
and
Problems of the Self
doesn’t make you a stupid person. Lots of people don’t know him.”

Her chest puffs out, looking more ruffled than when Lo pushes her buttons. “I know Freud,
Connor
. I knew Williams influenced him. Had someone on my team not sneezed, I wouldn’t have been so distracted.”

“A sneeze? You’re going to blame your loss on an allergy problem?”

Rose holds up a hand to his face, as if
pausing
the argument, and sets her icy gaze on us. “You both really can’t be friends with this asshole. Actually”—she points at Lo—“I believe
you
can, but you, Lily, really?”

Lo smirks. “Keep it coming, Rose. You’re just making me love the guy more.” Oh jeez. And to make matters more complicated, Connor looks amused by the continuation of this madness. He sticks his hands in his pockets, at ease.

“What happened to Charlie and Stacey?” she questions.
They never existed.

“They moved,” Lo lies easily. “Transferred to Brown a month ago. I’d let them know you said goodbye, but they wouldn’t care. They didn’t really like you.” And there goes our scapegoat with one new fib.

Rose glares. “That’s real cute, Loren, considering they didn’t even know me.”

“Wait, Charlie who?” Connor asks.

“You wouldn’t know them,” I say.

He looks offended.
For real?
“I know everyone.”

I open my mouth, at a loss of how to reply to
that.

Rose snorts. “You’re always the same, Connor, raising yourself on some prodigious level. I bet your biggest dream is to kiss the ass of Bill Gates.”

Just when I think Rose’s comment has penetrated Connor’s cool, calm, know-it-all exterior, his thousand-dollar smile widens. He takes a step forward, threatening to breach Rose’s safe space.

Lo whispers under his breath, “Protect your balls, Connor.”

I’d agree, but Connor has proven to hold his own so far. He cocks his head at her. “Says the girl who’s clothing line just got dropped by Sax.” He inspects her tailored dress. “Is that piece extinct yet? Or can your
two
customers go buy it at Plato’s Closet?”

Lo bursts into laughter, and I sink deeper into his arms. This is not good. At all. Rose has longer and sharper claws than me, able to defend herself quite effortlessly.

“Shut up,
Loren
,” she says first. Then she places a hand on her hip. “So you read the newspaper, Connor. Congratulations, a well-informed citizen of Pennsylvania. Let’s throw confetti and have a parade.”

“Or you could go out with me tonight.”

What?!
Lo chokes on his alcohol. I gape, my jaw permanently unhinged. Rose. He just asked out Rose, my sister. I saw this coming, did I not? “Ha!” I say to Lo, poking him in the arm.

He bites my shoulder and murmurs, “She hasn’t said yes yet.”

Oh. I’d like Rose to give Connor a chance. If anyone can verbally keep up with her, he can. But she pushes men away as much as I used to lead them in.

Her body language stays closed off—her face as icy as before. “That’s really funny. Nice joke.”
Oh no, Rose, he’s not joking.
I want to tell her that this isn’t some cruel trick to make fun of her. She has guards up so she won’t get hurt. It’s easier to be cold than to feel the sting of disappointment.

“It isn’t one,” he tells her, taking another step. Her feet stay cemented to the floor, a good sign. “I have tickets to
The Tempest.
”

I chime in, “Rose, you love Shakespeare.”

She shoots me a look to stay out of it. I press my lips together, but I see her mind reeling at his proposition. Rose scrutinizes Connor. “So you have two tickets for
tonight?
This is obviously a pity invite.”

“How could you think that?” he rebuts. “I don’t pity you in the least. I’m inviting you because I happen to have two tickets that will go unused if you don’t accompany me. I bought them for my mother, but work came up, and she can’t go.”

“Why take me?” she asks. “You know
everyone.
I’m sure you can manage to find some rich man to schmooze.”

“True, but that’s not the company I feel like sharing tonight. I’d rather take you, a beautiful, intelligent girl from Princeton.”