Cover

Addicted for Now

ADDICTED FOR NOW

BY KRISTA & BECCA RITCHIE

Addicted for Now

ABOUT THE BOOK

ADDICTED FOR NOW

He’s addicted to booze. She’s addicted to sex…staying sober is only half the

ba le.

No. More. Sex.

Those are the three words Lily Calloway fears the most. But Loren Hale is

determined to be with Lily without enabling her dangerous compulsions.

With their new living situa on—sleeping in the same bed, for real,

together—Lily has new ba les. Like not jumping Lo’s bones every night.

Not being consumed by sex and his body.

Loren plans to stay sober, to right all of his wrongs. So when someone

threatens to expose Lily’s secret to her family and the public, he promises

that he’ll do anything to protect her. But with old enemies surfacing, Lo has

more at stake than his sobriety.

They will torment Lily un l Lo breaks.

And his worst fear isn’t relapsing. He hears the end. He sees it. The one

thing that could change everything. Just three words.

No. More. Us.

Addicted for Now

PLAYLIST

Love Me Again - John Newman This Life - Edward Sharpe & The Magne c Zeroes Two Fingers - Jake Bugg

Worthy - Jacob Banks

Bedroom Hymns - Florence + The Machine Just Give Me a Reason - P!nk, Nate Ruess Goodbye - Glenn Morrison What’s The Ma er - Milo Greene

Listen to the ADDICTED FOR NOW playlist on Spo fy

Also nd individual character playlists on Spo fy

PART ONE

PART ONE

“People talk about you like you’re Jesus, but you’re not. You only pull out

the miracles to save yourself. Which kind of makes you the opposite of

Jesus, doesn’t it?”

– HELLION (JULIAN KELLER) X-MEN: LEGACY VOL 1, 242

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER ONE

LILY CALLOWAY

OF ALL THE days in the month, I have to be stuck in tra c on the one that means the most to me. I try not to badger Nola, my family’s driver, on our ETA to the house I share with Rose. Instead, I anxiously shi on the leather seat and rapidly text my sister.

Is he already there? Please say no, please tell me I haven’t missed his homecoming. I’m supposed to wait on the white wrap-around porch of our secluded house in Princeton, New Jersey: many acres of lush land, a crystal blue pool, black shu ers. The only thing it’s missing is the picket fence. I’m supposed to give him a tour of the cozy living room and the granite kitchen, leading him upstairs to the bedrooms where I sleep. He won’t be in one of the two guestrooms. Nope, he’ll be making residence in mine for the rst me ever.

And maybe awkwardness will linger at the idea of sharing a bed and a bathroom day and night, at the idea of cohabita ng beyond a kitchen. Our rela onship will be one-hundred percent real, and there’ll be no nightcaps of bourbon or whiskey. I’ll be able to say don’t do that. And he’ll be able to grip my wrists, keeping me from compulsively climaxing un l I pass out.

We’re supposed to help each other.

For the past three months, that’s what we’ve planned. And if I’m not there to greet him—then I’ve already messed up in some way. A er three whole months of being physically apart, I thought I’d be able to get this right—the celebra on of his return from rehab. On top of desperately wan ng to touch him, for him to hold me in his arms, I feel a sudden wave of guilt. Please be late like me, is all I think.

The text pings, and I open the message, a knot ghtening my stomach.

He’s unpacking – Rose

My face falls, and a lump rises to my throat. I can just picture his expression as he opened the car door, expec ng me to ing my arms around him and start sobbing into his shoulder at his arrival. And I’m not there.

Was he upset? I text back.

I bite my nails, my pinky star ng to bleed a li le. The habit has made my ngers look ghastly these past ninety days.

He seemed okay. How much longer will you be? – Rose

She must hate being alone with him. They’ve never been good friends since I chose to spend me with Lo more than I do with her. But she’s been kind enough to allow him to stay with us.

Maybe ten minutes.

A er I text her, I scroll through my contacts and land on Lo. I hesitate before I type another quick message.

I’m so sorry. I’ll be there soon.

Five slow minutes pass with no response, and I’ve squirmed so much on the seat that Nola asks if she needs to stop somewhere so I can use the bathroom. I decline. I’m so nervous that my bladder probably won’t func on properly anyway.

My phone buzzes in my hand, popping my heart from my ribcage.

How was the doctor? – Lo

Rose must have clued him in on the reason for my absence. I scheduled my gynecologist appointment four months ago because she’s crazily booked, and I would have canceled if I thought I’d be able to nab an appointment some me soon. But that’s doub ul. And it didn’t help that my gynecologist is near the University of Pennsylvania in Philly, not even close to Princeton where I now live. Having to drive back has eaten up all of my me.

I had to wait for about an hour. She was running behind, I text.

A er a long moment, a new message ashes.

Everything’s okay though? – Lo

Oh, that’s what he was asking. I’m so hung up on missing his homecoming that I didn’t think about him being worried.

I type back. Yep, looks good.

I cringe, wondering if that was a weird reply. I basically just said my vagina looks good—which is kinda strange.

See you soon – Lo

He has always been a brief texter, and right now, I’m cursing him for it. My paranoia grows and the pressure on my chest does not subside. I grip the door handle, about ready to s ck my head out of the moving vehicle to puke. Drama c, I realize, but with our situa on—recovering alcoholic and a struggling sex addict—we’re anything but mundane.

Ninety whole days passed and I stayed faithful to Lo. I saw a therapist. But sex s ll has a way of making me feel be er, masking other emo ons and lling a deep hollowness. I’m trying to nd the healthy kind and not the compulsive “I have to fuck everyday” type of sex. I’m s ll uncomfortable talking about it, but at least I made progress the same way Lo did in rehab.

My mind whirls right up un l Nola pulls into my driveway. All thoughts vacuum out into another dimension, and I dazedly say thanks and dri from the car. Purple hydrangeas frame the three-story house, rocking chairs lined in a row on the porch, and an American ag clings against a metal pole near a weeping willow.

I try to inhale the peacefulness and bury my anxiety, but I end up choking on spring me pollen, coughing into my arm. Why does the pre est season also have to be the most foul?

I shouldn’t hesitate in the front yard. I should rush right inside and

nally touch the man that plagues my fantasies. But I wonder how

di erent he will seem up close in person. I worry about the awkwardness from being apart for so long. Will we t the same way we used to? Will I feel the same in his arms? Or will everything be irreparably di erent?

I muster a bit of courage to walk forward. And by the me I climb the porch, the door swings open. I freeze on the highest stair and watch the screen door cla er into the side of the house. Then he emerges, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a black tee, and an arrowhead necklace I gave him for his twenty- rst birthday.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t stop my eyes from grazing every inch of him. The way his light brown hair is styled, full on top, shorter on the sides. The way his cheekbones sharpen to make him look deadly and gorgeous. The way he reaches up and rubs his lips, as though hoping they’ll touch mine. He rakes my body with the same impa ence, and then his head lts to the side, our eyes nally mee ng.

“Hi,” he says, breaking into a breathtaking smile. His chest falls heavily, nearly in sync with my uneven rhythm.

“Hi,” I whisper. A large distance separates us, reminding me of when he

rst le for rehab. Picking up a foot and closing the gap feels like crawling

up a ninety-degree angle. I need him to help me reach the top.

He takes a step near me, snapping the tension. All these sensa ons burst in my belly. I love him so much. I missed him so much. For three months, I felt the pain of being separated from my best friend while trying to ght my sexual compulsions. I needed him to tell me that everything was going to be okay.

I needed him by my side, but I would never take him away from rehab for my bene t, not when it would be detrimental to his recovery. And I want Lo to be healthy more than anything. And I want him to be happy.

“I’m back,” he murmurs.

I try to restrain my tears, but they ow unwillingly, sliding from the creases of my eyes. I should be emerging from the doorway to greet him, and he should be the one lingering on the porch stairs. Why are we so backwards all the me?

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, wiping my eyes slowly. “I should have been here an hour ago…”

He shakes his head and his brows pinch together like don’t worry about that.

I stare at the length of him again with a more con dent nod. “You look good.” I can’t tell that he’s sober exactly. He hasn’t lost that look in his eye —the one that seems to kiss my soul and trap me altogether. But he’s not beaten or withered or gaunt. In fact, he has more muscle to his name, his biceps supremely cut. And a er a Skype session some me ago, I know his whole body matches those arms.

I wait for him to say so do you, but his eyes trail me once more, and I watch the way his chest collapses and his face twists in pain.

I blink. “What is it?” I glance down at my body. I wear jeans and a loose- ng V-neck, nothing out of the ordinary. I wonder if I spilled co ee

on my jeans or something, but I don’t see what he does.

Instead of telling me what worries him, he inches forward, the deep hurt in his eyes frightening me. What did I do wrong? I shu e back—a reac on I hardly would have predicted for today. I nearly stumble down the stairs, but his arm swoops around my waist, drawing me to his chest, saving me from a plummet into the grass below.

His warmness snares me, and I clutch his arms, afraid to let go. He stares intensely before his gaze dri s to my arms…my hands. He peels one o his bicep, his ngers skimming over mine, stealing the breath right from my lungs. He raises my hand in between us and then li s my elbow, giving me a good view of my arm.

My chest sinks, realizing the source of his confusion and hurt.

“What the hell, Lil?” he says.

I scratched my arm raw during the last therapy session yesterday, and an ugly red welt will most likely scab tomorrow. Even with gross, bi en

ngernails, I managed to irritate my skin.

Lo inspects my nails, his nose aring to hold back even more emo on.

“I’m ne. I was just…anxious yesterday. Therapy was harder. You were coming home…” I don’t want to talk about this now. I want him to hold me. I want our reunion to be epic—The Notebook worthy. And my stupid anxiety and bad habit has ruined the perfect outcome I imagined. I reclaim my hand and touch his jaw, forcing him to stop focusing on my problems. “I’m okay.”

The words feel a li le false. I am not one-hundred percent okay. These past three months were a test I could have easily failed. At mes, I thought giving up was be er than gh ng. But I made it. I’m here.

Lo’s here.

That’s all that ma ers.

His arms suddenly slide around my back, and he melds my body to his. His lips brush the top of my ear, sending shivers spiraling across my neck. He whispers, “Please don’t lie to me.”

My mouth falls. “I didn’t…” But I can’t nish because tears begin to pool, burning on their way down. I grip his shoulders, holding him ghter, afraid he plans to pull away and leave me broken on the porch. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “Don’t go…”

He edges back, and I cling harder, desperate and afraid. He’s a lifeline I cannot quan fy or ar culate. I depend on him more than any girl should depend on a boy, but he’s been the backbone of my life. Without him, I will fall.

“Hey.” He gathers my face in his hands. His glassy eyes bring me back to reality. To the fact that he feels my pain just as I feel his. That’s the problem. We hurt so much for each other that it’s hard to say no. It’s hard to take away the vice that will numb the agony of the day. “I’m here,” he says, a silent tear dripping down his cheek. “We’re going to beat this together.”

Yes. “Can you kiss me?” I ask, wondering if that’s allowed. My therapist handed me a white envelope lled with my sexual limita ons—what I should and should not do. She advised me not to read it and to give it to Lo instead. Since I’m supposed to strive for in macy, not celibacy, I need to relinquish my control in bed to him. He’ll set the guidelines and tell me when to stop.

I handed the envelope to Rose yesterday and told her to deliver it to Lo just in case I chickened out. As concerned as Rose has been for my recovery process, I’m sure that was the rst thing she did when Lo walked through the door.

I have no idea how many mes I can kiss him. How much I can climax or if I’m allowed to have sex anywhere other than a bedroom. I’m so compulsive about intercourse and foreplay that limits have to be set, but following them will be the hardest part of my journey.

His thumb wipes away my tears, and I brush his. I wait for his answer, my eyes glued to his lips that I want to kiss un l they s ng and swell. His forehead lowers, dipped down towards mine, and I become so aware of how his ngers press into my hips, of the hardness of his body. I need him to close that gap between us. I need him to ll me whole.

Has ly, I meet my lips to his, expec ng him to li me up around his waist, to plunge his tongue in my mouth and slam my back into the siding.

But he doesn’t give in to my desires.

He leans back and breaks the kiss in a ma er of seconds. My stomach drops. Lo rarely tells me no when it comes to sex. He’ll play into my cravings un l I’m wet and wan ng. Things, I realize, are about to really change. “My terms,” he whispers, his voice husky and deep.

My whole body already pulses from his nearness. “Please,” I beg. “I haven’t touched you in so long.” I want to run my hands over him. I want him to thrust into me un l I cry. I imagine it over and over, torturing myself with these carnal thoughts. But I also want to be strong and not throw myself at him like he’s only a body I missed. He means so much more to me. Maybe he’s hurt by my persistence to kiss him? Maybe he sees it as a bad sign? “I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “It’s not that I want you for sex…I mean, I do want sex, but I want you because I miss you…and I love you, and I need…” I shake my head. My words sound stupid and desperate.

“Lil,” he says slowly. “Relax, okay?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t think I know this is hard for you? I knew we were going to run into this moment.” His eyes fall to my lips. “I knew you were going to want to kiss me and for me to take you quick and hard. But that’s not going to happen today.”

I nod rapidly, ha ng those words but trying to soak them in and accept them. Uncontrollable tears begin to ow because I’m afraid I may not be able to restrain my compulsions. I thought being away from Lo would be the di cult part, but learning how to have a healthy, in mate rela onship with him suddenly seems impossible. He’s a man that I want to take advantage of every minute of the day. If I’m not doing it, then I fantasize about it. How can I stop?

His breathing shallows, as though my tears are driving knots into his stomach. Mine has already collapsed. I feel u erly destroyed by guilt and shame and despera on.

His ngers dig harder in my sides, as though reminding me that he’s here, touching me. “What’s going to happen,” he breathes, “is that I’m going to carry you through this door. I’m going to draw out every single moment un l you’re exhausted. And I’m going to move so slow that three months ago will feel like yesterday. And tomorrow will feel like today, and no one in this fucking universe will be able to say your name without saying mine.”

And then he kisses me, so urgently, so passionately that my lungs su ocate. His tongue gently slips into my mouth, and I savor each and every movement. He kneads the back of my head, gripping my hair, yanking and sending my nerves on overdrive.

His hands fall to my ass, and he e ortlessly li s me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, squeezing ghtly into a front-piggyback. He guides me inside, just as he promised. I hook my arms underneath his and press my cheek to his hard chest, listening to the unsteady beat of his heart. We’re so close, but I s ll ache to be closer. My breath shallows for it.

He kisses the top of my head and carries me into my bedroom on the second oor. Well—our bedroom. My net canopy is pulled back, the comforter black and white with red sheets. Lo rests my back against the ma ress, and I reach up to grab a st-full of his shirt and yank him on top of me. But he steps back and shakes his head.

Slow, I remember. Right.

My legs dangle o the edge, and I prop myself on my elbows as he stands in front of me.

“I’m yours,” he tells me. “I will always be yours, Lily. But now it’s me for you to say it.”

I sit up and my eyes it over all of him. In all our life, he has never once said to me, you are mine. He has never taken me the way I’ve taken him. He has given himself to me. And I realize, it’s my me to make this right and give myself to him.

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

The muscles in his jaw twitch, almost smiling. “I’ll believe you when I see it.”

I squint. “Then why’d you tell me to say it?”

He leans forward, his lips so close to mine. His palms set on either side of my body, forcing me to fall back a li le. I hesitate to kiss him. He’s tes ng me, I think. “Because I love those words.”

My lips part. Kiss me, I plead. “I’m yours,” I breathe.

His eyes drop to mine, watching me, drawing out the moment. The spot between my legs aches for him. I want the pressure of his body—to rock against me, to ll me, to say my name over and over.

Kiss me. “I’m yours,” I choke, wide-eyed in u er suspense.

And then he sucks on the bo om of my lip, he teasingly bites it and then sinks his pelvis into mine. I buck my hips to meet him and he lets me.

Lo grips the hem of his shirt and tugs it o his head, tossing it aside. Before I run my palms over his taut chest and newly sharpened abs, he laces his ngers with mine. Simultaneously, he puts his knee on the ma ress and pulls me higher onto the bed, my head nding the pillow.

He climbs on and keeps my hands trapped in his. Then he stretches my arms high above me, our knuckles knocking into the headboard.

His body hovers over me, no longer melded together. I squirm beneath the space I dearly hate, my heart thudding and raging to be even closer. “Lo…” I can’t take it anymore. My back arches a li le as I try to meet his body again, and he lts his head, disapproving.

So I stay s ll. I try to let him take control since I need to go slow. His lips lower but linger from touching mine. He keeps that distance as he unbu ons my jeans, relinquishing the hold on my hand. He uses his other to guide my palm to his zipper.

Yes.

It takes only seconds before I have him unzipped and unbu oned, tugging his jeans o with familiarity. I wiggle out of mine and he li s the shirt o my head, in nothing but a black lacy bra and panty set. I did know he was coming home today, a er all.

He soaks in the curvature of my body with headiness, and he begins to remove his last ar cle of clothing. “Eyes on me,” he says huskily.

They are permanently xed to the bulge in his boxer-briefs. “They are,” I mumble. Technically this is a part of him.

“My eyes, love, not my cock,” he says, a smile behind the words.

I raise my gaze as he slips o his boxer-briefs. Watching the way he looks at me nearly sends me into a tailspin. I swallow and can’t help but catch a glimpse. Oh God, I need him now. He’s hard and as wan ng as I am, but yet, he has restraint.

I do not.

He could easily take advantage of my eagerness, most guys would. But in order to help me, he has to control my impa ence and my compulsion to go again. And again. Because my addic on isn’t en rely a one-way street the way his is. I need his body in order to sa sfy these unhealthy desires.

So he must say no at some point. I just don’t want it to be soon.

He leans forward again, and his lips begin their descent from my neck to my belly bu on, sucking, nibbling—teasing. My hands grip his back while I hold a moan deep in my throat.

He kisses my hipbone and gently slips o my pan es, the cold air nipping the most sensi ve places. I expect his lips to warm the spot, but he eases o me and unclips my bra, sliding the straps o my shoulders so, so slowly. The light touch taunts my nerves and my sanity. His tongue runs between my breasts and then dips back into my mouth. And that’s when his arms scoop around me and li me up in a ght embrace, my breasts melding into his muscles, my limbs nearly tangled in his. My legs wrap around his waist, and I ache to lower onto his cock. But he keeps his arms locked around my chest, forcing me above his lap.

“Sit on your legs,” he tells me.

“But…”

He lightly kisses me and tears away while I try to go in for another stronger one. “Sit on your legs, Lil. Or I’ll do it for you.”

That sounds be er. He sees the glimmer in my eyes, and he picks up my right leg and bends my knee so my heel is underneath my bu . As he goes for the le , his hand skims up my thigh and to the crease of my ass. Holy…

Okay, I’m si ng on my heels now, trying not to come before he enters me. What if my therapist wrote that I can only climax once? Besides that sounding like torture, I hope to have sex with Lo today. I will not ruin that by going crazy with foreplay.

I’m s ll si ng straight up, and his body has not dri ed from mine. His heart pounds against my chest, and he cups my face in his hand.

“Breathe,” he tells me. “Just remember to breathe.”

And then with measured unhurriedness, he gradually rests my back onto my comforter and slowly begins to slip inside of me. The posi on allows for such deep entry that I cry out and grab onto his shoulder for support.

His forehead rests near mine, and he raises my chin, kissing me forcefully, just how I like it, before he begins to rock agonizingly slow. Each movement mimics our heavy breaths. My parted lips brush his as he digs deeper. I whimper, my toes already curling, my head already ying o my body.

His hand massages my breast, but his eyes never once leave mine. Hot tears seep from the creases, the intensity and emo on driving me to a peak so high that every me I breathe in, he breathes out, as though keeping me alive for this moment. I melt into his slow movement, the way he disappears inside of me, and the pace that causes my body to light on

re.

“Don’t stop…” I cry. “…Lo…” I tremble, and his arms slip around my back again, holding me ghter.

He speeds up a li le, and I feel the top of the hill. I see us climbing together.

And then he thrusts and holds inside of me. I buck and cry and claw at his back. My whole body pulsing, my heart thrumming—I am his.

I collapse back onto the bed, too exhausted to li an arm or a leg. He takes care of me, bending my knees and stretching my legs out from the last posi on. He rests his hands on my kneecaps, and leans forward to kiss me again. I taste the salt from our sweat, and I raise my hand to grab the back of his hair, my eagerness suddenly replacing the redness from our emo onal sex. But he laces his ngers into mine, stopping me.

I frown. “No?” Only once?

He shakes his head and then kisses my temple. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath ckling my ear.

“I love you too,” I tell him. But I do want to wrap my legs ghtly around him, giving him no choice but to harden and take me again. He scru nizes me closely, and he must see my impa ence for round two.

His eyes narrow. “Not now.”

I bite my lip. “Are you going to tell me what’s in the envelope?” What did my therapist restrict? The answer is killing me right now.

“Nope,” he says. “You’ll just want it even more if you know it’s forbidden.”

I squint at him. “You’re ge ng too smart.”

He grins. “When it comes to you, I am.” He kisses the outside of my lips. I love and hate when he does that. “Just so you know,” he whispers, “I’d love nothing more than to ll you again. I’d do it a million mes a day if I could.”

“I know,” I murmur.

He brushes my sweaty hair o my face.

And I inhale a deep breath. “I’m just glad you’re home.” I have Lo back. That’s all that should ma er right now. Not a round two or a three, but just him present, on the road to being healthy, and in love with me. That’s all I should need.

I can’t wait to reach that place. I just hope it’s a ainable.

He relaxes next to me, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he runs his hand through my hair. This is nice.

I almost dri to sleep, but the chime of a cellphone snaps my eyes open. “Whose is it?”

He reaches over onto my nightstand. “Mine.” He ips the cell in his palm, and I crane my neck over his shoulder and see a text box.

I know your girlfriend’s secret. – Unknown

I shoot up, fear snapping me cold. Did I read that wrong? I snatch the phone out of his hand, and he grabs it back.

“Lil, calm down,” he says, trying to shield the screen from me as he types a reply.

“Who is that?” I’ve been so careful. I’ve never told anyone I had a sex addic on other than Lo, and now Rose, Connor, and Ryke. Did they let my secret slip to someone else?

I bite my ngernail, and Lo clasps my hand while tex ng with the other. His eyes icker to me, narrowing in disapproval.

When the ping sounds again, I basically climb on top of Lo so he can’t hide the message. I read quickly.

Who the fuck are you? – Lo

Someone you hate. – Unknown.

Okay, that does not narrow anything down. Lo’s enemies from prep school and college are numerous and vast. It happened when he retaliated against all the people who thought they could bully him into submission.

Lo tries to push me o , but I have my arm wrapped around his neck, close to choking him, so he lets me be. We’re s ll naked, but I’m too fran c to be aroused.

Fuck o – Lo

“That’s your response?” I say, wide-eyed. “You’re egging the person on.”

“If you don’t like it, then you shouldn’t be reading my personal texts or spidering me like a koala bear.”

True.

And lose out on all the money the tabloids will pay me when I tell

them that Lily Calloway is a sex addict? …Never – Unknown

I blink. Reread the text. And gawk. No.

“Lil,” Lo says, shu ng o his phone. “It’s okay. That’s not going to happen. Look at me.” He holds my face in his hands, forcing my eyes to his. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it. I’ll hire someone to go nd this asshole. I’ll pay him o more than he’ll get from the tabloids.”

He’s forge ng something. “You’re broke,” I say. His father took away his trust fund because he dropped out of college. Lo hasn’t spoken to him since he le for rehab. He’s alone and poor and all my money is ed up with my family. And they don’t know about my addic on either. I’d rather not tell them. Ever.

His features darken, remembering. “I’ll think of something else then.”

The shame that my family will feel if they nd out—the hurt and disappointment—I can’t bear to even think about it. A female sex addict? A slut. A male sex addict? A hero. How much will I tarnish my father’s company with the news? Sure, not a lot of people outside of our social circle know my name or who I am, but could this make tabloid headlines? Why wouldn’t it? Lily Calloway: Daughter of the Founder of Fizzle, a Sex Addict and a Whore.

It’s juicy enough to sa ate gossip columnists everywhere.

“Lo,” I say as tears threaten to fall. “I’m scared.”

He hugs me, drawing me close. “Everything is going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

I hold onto his words and repeat them over and over, hoping that will truly be enough.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWO

LOREN HALE

I FIST a bo le of cheap vodka by the neck. I can’t think straight. My emo ons are black. My heart is about there. My lengthy stride is lled with deplorable hate. I don’t run. I walk quickly up the steep driveway, the alcohol clenched in my hand, a million-dollar home staring right back at me.

The door. All I see is that black door and the bronze knocker.

I slam my st against it, pounding. No one answers. I don’t even hear footsteps. “Open up!” I yell. I pound again and again. Fuck this.

I take the bo le and swing. The glass smashes. The contents sha er, the liquid dripping down the bronze knocker, trailing the black wood and running beneath my soles.

“Fucking hell,” Ryke curses behind me. “Was that necessary?”

The door blows open.

“Yes.”

I told Ryke to wait in the car and I men oned how the only way Aaron Wells would creep out of his parents’ home (like the rat that he is) is if I started fucking with his things. Star ng with that door. I was prepared to move onto his BMW—a shard of glass to decorate the hood. Now I don’t have to go that far.

But I’m not surprised Ryke parked on the curb and followed me up the hill. He likes to do that—tag along and make sure I’m not about to self-destruct. That’s usually Lily’s job, and I’d choose her over him any day of the week. But not right now.

Not when an old prep school prick stands ve feet in front of me.

He has dirty blond hair (prac cally brown), blue eyes and that smug Dalton Academy smile that I remember so well. He’s the rst guy that came to mind when we received the texts. What I did to him back in prep school was fucked up, but our rivalry should have never included Lily. And he shouldn’t be tormen ng her now.

Aaron appraises the sha ered glass. “I shouldn’t be surprised. The stench smells exactly like you.”

Ryke is about to take a step forward, and I grab his arm to stop him. We’re not punching Wells, as much as I’d like to. This is not that type of

ght.

“I’ve met you before,” Aaron says, scanning Ryke from his dark hair to his lean muscles that nearly match mine. “Where was that?” He feigns confusion.

Ryke glares. “I should have smashed your fucking face in.”

When I heard what happened while I was gone, I really wish Ryke had.

Lily’s mother paired her with Aaron at a company party, and he threatened Lily the en re me, basically telling her that he’d screw with her to get to me. (Why? Because he hates me. There’s no other reason for that.) And I just had to hear the news in rehab without doing a goddamn thing. Now that he’s moved to Level 2—somehow learning about her sex addic on and wan ng money—I’m here, ready to fuck with him the same way he fucked with her.

“Oh right,” Aaron says without missing a beat, “I was Lily’s date to a Fizzle event, and you showed up like her white knight while this one was in rehab.” He cocks his head at me. And I internally grimace at the reminder that Ryke was there for Lily these past three months. I wasn’t.

But this, right here, is why I know Aaron sent those texts. He’s recently made it clear that he wants to toy with me by going through Lily, s rring up our old rivalry.

Two can play this game.

“Thanks for escor ng her,” I tell him. “She said it was painful staring at your ugly face all night, but I think we all know you weren’t there to please her.” My double-edged words even make me cringe. I don’t like to think about any other guy pleasing Lily. Not before we became a real couple. And de nitely not a er.

My heart beats so fucking fast. I take a step towards him, the glass crunching.

He s ens, and I wait to see if he has the balls to shove me back.

Nope. I take my chances and squeeze between the door frame and his immobilized body. He stares right at me. Eye for eye. And I invite myself inside.

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed,” I say, walking further in. I stare at the high-vaulted ceilings and the marble oors. Ryke follows me, and Aaron closes the door behind us, his lip curled. I point at the cellar door by the kitchen. “Should we crack open a bo le of wine?”

His eyes ash murderously.

“Maybe not then.”

Ryke hangs back, but if Aaron even raises a st, he’d be right by my side. That kind of support feels good. I’ve never once had that. Growing up, I always took the bea ng or found an escape. Fights were always me against a million. No one was in my corner. I wouldn’t let Lily be involved, and if she was, it was guys like Aaron that deviously pulled her in, knowing she was my best friend.

They’d fuck with her just to reach me.

And that’s not happening.

Aaron watches me closely.

“Who’s home?” I ask him.

“No one,” he says, his face blank.

I don’t believe him. “Your parents are in Barbados for the weekend.” Thank you Connor Cobalt with your great tech-savvy skills.

Aaron lets out a dry laugh. “Did your father nd that out for you?”

Oh yeah, Ryke wasn’t the one to deter Aaron at the Fizzle event. While Lily was trying to dodge Aaron all night, she told me that my father came in and saved her. Leave it to my dad to inject debilita ng fear into someone. Lily said Aaron ed the event a er that. Never made a peep again. “My father didn’t help me gure out who’s at your house,” I say, “but I should call him up, thank him for moles ng you with his words.”

“You’re a sick fucking guy,” Aaron says, “you know that?”

I’m just ge ng started. “Julie!” I shout. “Julie, come out, come out!”

Ryke wavers behind me. He’s seen me like this. I used to a ack him. I s ll do. Plenty of mes. But this is di erent. I am fueled by hate so deep that I can barely breathe.

Aaron glances hesitantly at the balcony above the double staircase. His house was used for debutante balls just for that entrance.

“JULIE!” I yell.

Aaron steps towards me, his hand leveled out as though he comes in peace. “Hey, I told your father I’d lay o Lily, okay? We made a deal. I stuck to it. I haven’t done shit to her since the event.”

“JULIE!”

The door cla ers upstairs.

Aaron talks faster, “I was pissed that night. I applied for a job, and they denied my applica on. I didn’t even get an interview because of you.”

“You’re going to blame me?” I glare. He should. With my father’s help, I called up his dream college and had the Dean take a second look at Wells. Next thing you know, he’s going to his safety school, not even waitlisted to the place he thought he had in the bag. We rerouted his future.

“I can’t compete with Ivy grads. Now I have to work for my father.”

A pair of feet pads across the second story.

“Don’t do this,” Aaron sneers, but he’s pleading. “I only scared Lily a li le. I wasn’t going to force her or anything. I promise you.” He’s never had sex with her, thank God. If I ran into one of her old hookups, I don’t know what my reac on would be.

“That’s what you always do, isn’t it?” I say. “You scare her. Well, grab a membership card Aaron. You’re about to be fucking terri ed.”

Right on cue, a girl with the same dirty blonde hair grips the balcony railing, leaning over to stare at me from below. “Loren Hale.”

“Julie, go back to your room,” Aaron tells her, fear spiking his voice.

“What am I, four?” she snaps. She wears dark lips ck and a shit ton of eyeliner. She’s his fraternal twin. And a girl I may have fucked once or twice when I was sixteen, depending on the day. The di erence between Lily and me is that I actually dated Julie (for two whole weeks) at a me when I wasn’t in a fake rela onship with my best friend.

Lily, however, fucks once and then moves on.

And a er a long, long struggle, I have nally become her only excep on.

“Hi Julie,” I say. “Can you come here for a second?”

“What’s this about?” She looks between Aaron and me, taking in Aaron’s s posture. “Aaron, it’s been years since I was with Lo. Seriously,

get over it.” But she’s wrong. Our ght didn’t start because I dated her. She was just a bullet in my gun. One of the things I used to hurt him. Fucking his sister—that’s the easiest trick in the book. Something my father would have done. Something that I hate I did. I can barely even stomach the memory.

I just thank God that Julie is as deplorable as her brother and me. She used me just as much as I used her—wan ng to get back at her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t care as much as she wished he did.

“Julie,” I snap. “Come here. Now.” I’m not fucking around. Well, I kind of am. But you should see Aaron’s face. He’s about to shit his pants. He has no idea what I’m going to do. Hell, I have no idea what I plan to do either. I just know that his family is his weak spot the same way Lily is mine.

She descends the stairs, barefoot. Her curious gaze lingers on Ryke. “You’re hot.”

“Julie,” Aaron cringes.

“Can I see your phone?” I ask Aaron. Now that Julie is here, he’ll be more willing to hand it over. She’s a distrac on and a warning.

His brows furrow. “What for?”

“Just give it to me.”

Julie sighs heavily like this is boring her. “Just give him the phone, Aaron.”

Aaron slips his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. I scroll through his previous texts, trying to nd my number stored somewhere. But the en re thing is blank.

“Why’d you delete all of your texts?”

“I always do,” Aaron says. “My mother likes to check my phone.”

“You’re twenty-two.” He’s not a teenager needing approval to sleep over a friend’s house. He’s an adult.

“Yeah? That hasn’t changed her from being nosy.”

I s ll don’t believe him. I can’t.

“What’s your name?” Julie asks Ryke, bi ng her lip as though that’ll drop him to his knees.

“Ryke,” he says.

“Ryke, how do you know Loren?”

“He’s my brother.”

Her brows shoot up. “Wow, I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Neither did I,” I say, shoving the phone back in Aaron’s palm. “Did you use a fake phone? A disposable?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Aaron says, his eyes wide. “I didn’t do shit to you or Lily. I told you, your father—”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, not really sure what I believe. He could be lying. Out of everyone I know, he’s the most likely to threaten Lily. If I can end it all right here, right now, that’s what I’ll do.

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Aaron screams.

Ryke steps forward to my defense. “Says the guy who spent two hours chasing a girl around a ballroom, terrifying her beyond fucking words.”

“Wow,” Julie says, “you’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Julie!” Aaron shouts. “Leave, now. Get the fuck out of here.”

Julie rolls her eyes and drops o the ps of her feet like Aaron popped her entertainment. She nods to me. “It’s nice to see you again, Loren. I’m sorry my brother can’t get over our rela onship.”

“Yeah, he has trouble le ng things go.” If I was him, I would s ll be full of resentment. I don’t blame him at all. I just hate that I drove him to this place—to a point where he could a ack Lily while I was at rehab. I was such a stupid fucking kid. I s ll am some mes.

I could be going about this the wrong way right now. But it’s the only thing I know how to do. And it works. I use my words. Threaten the guy who’s threatening me.

Julie walks o to the kitchen, in plain view. Mostly so Ryke can see her bend low as she grabs a pan from the cupboard. She looks back to make sure he caught sight of her ass. He didn’t. His eyes haven’t le Aaron. But as I watch her, Aaron is seconds from imploding, dropping on his knees, and giving me what I want. I can’t take credit for that. I think, partly, my father’s previous threats have already sunk in.

“Where’s your disposable phone?” I ask again.

Ryke puts his hand on my arm, and he whispers, “I don’t think he did it.”

I don’t want to believe that. Because then I’ll be clueless.

I’ll have no idea who else it could be.

Aaron holds up his hands in defense. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not the only guy who hates you, Loren. So whatever is going on, maybe you should think about who else you pissed o all these years. I can’t imagine college was that pleasant for you.”

Yeah…I may be fucked.

I nod to myself. But if he is the guy who sent me those texts, I’m not just going to leave here without insurance that he won’t do something again. I have to have the last word. So I lean in and I say, “If you scare my girlfriend again, you’ll wish all you had to worry about was working for your fucking dad.” My eyes icker to Julie once. “And you should start ea ng your sister’s makeup. Your insides are fucking ugly.”

He could easily say as are yours. But nothing comes from his mouth. He’s solidi ed in a mixture of hate and fear—emo ons that are oa ng all around his house right now.

I don’t wait for him to reanimate.

I leave.

And on the way to the car, Ryke says, “You didn’t tell me that you’d be fucking with his sister.”

“Does it ma er?”

He stares straight ahead, his eyes dark.

“She was objec fying you, Ryke,” I tell him. “She was two seconds from pulling down your pants and climbing on your dick.”

“Like Lily?” he snaps back.

“Fuck. You.” I swing open the car door. It’s not the same thing. Lily— she’s my best friend. I’m not a conquest of hers. If that were true, she wouldn’t s ll be with me. I wouldn’t be able to sa sfy her for so long.

“Sorry,” Ryke barely apologizes, his harsh tone never so ening. “I just don’t want to see another girl get caught in the fucking cross res of your feuds.”

“I’m not going to hurt her. He just has to think I am.”

Ryke stares at me for a long moment. “Did our father teach you that?”

“Yeah,” I say. “He also taught me how to get in a car and drive the fuck away.”

Ryke nods. “Glad to know you’re s ll an asshole, even without the booze.”

“Must be gene c.”

Ryke smiles at this, and we both climb into his In nity. I don’t feel be er a er this. Because I don’t even remember some of the people I pissed o .

I drowned most of them in a haze of whiskey and bourbon.

They’re gone from my mind for good.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

“IS THIS AN INTERROGATION OR A MEETING?” Ryke asks roughly. He slouches on our navy Queen Anne chair with a deep scowl, sweat stains seeping through a Penn track shirt.

There are only three people who could have possibly spilled my secret. And the guy at the top of my suspect list has yet to crumble. Although, very li le ru es Ryke Meadows.

And here he sits—edged, all hard-lines, his eyes perpetually narrowed and his demeanor cocky and self-assured. He managed to become a part of Lo’s life. He in ltrated our group, and he has never made a move to leave. He either cares about his brother so much that he’s willing to endure almost anything or he’s scheming for something greater—something that could overturn my whole world.

So it’s true that I’ve been hammering Ryke with ques ons, and I’m about one step away from shining a blinding light in his face to get real serious. But I have a right to freak out. My life is seconds from crumbling.

Lo passes Ryke a bo le of water.

I shoot Lo a wide-eyed look. He shouldn’t be giving him sustenance un l we have answers. That could have been our only bargaining chip.

“Who says he gets water?” I blurt out.

Their brows crinkle as though I’ve lost some brain cells. Okay, so I’m being irra onal. What else is new?

Ryke raises a hand. “I’m sorry, but is anyone else concerned for my safety here?”

Lo ignores his brother and clasps my hand, pulling me to the sofa. My leg touches his, but the closeness doesn’t calm me. Since I read the text, panic has overpowered my chance at being composed and sane.

I don’t want to act like this, but my only other way of coping with high-stress situa ons involves grinding and climaxing and everything I’m not allowed to do.

Rose’s heels clap down the hallway. “Connor should be here any minute now.” She sits on the pale yellow loveseat adjacent to the couch, crossing her ankles. In a black pleated skirt and a high-collared silk blouse, she looks far classier than anyone else in the room.

“Great, so you can direct this interroga on on someone else,” Ryke says, eyeing me with a tad bit of scorn. But in Ryke Meadows’ case, there’s probably a li le pinch of love in there. At least I hope we made some progress while Lo was in rehab. Sure, we had a rocky three months, but Lo was always our common ground.

But if he’s behind some larger plot to ruin Lo’s life—and consequently mine—I’ll never forgive him.

Lo runs a hand on my bouncing leg, trying to se le my nerves. “I’m going to take care of it, Lil,” he says so ly.

Ryke gives him a dark, fur ve look. I’ve seen it before. It’s the kind you share with someone when you have a secret.

I gasp. “Have you done something without me?”

Lo shakes his head. “No.” He won’t meet my eyes.

I smack his chest. “You’re a lying liar, and we’re supposed to be truthful.”

“Well,” he draws out the word, “if the guy keeps tex ng us, we may or may not be able to cross Aaron Wells o our suspect list.”

“May or may not?” Rose says. “That sounds like no progress.”

“I did what I did. I’m not going to take it back.” His voice is sharp.

All I hear is Aaron Wells, and I go cold. “What did you do?” Aaron is not someone I ever want to see again.

Rose mu ers something under her breath that sounds like vandalize.

“I just talked to him,” Lo says.

I look to Ryke for veri ca on. Clearly he was a part of this plot, which only makes me more nervous.

“Yeah, we just talked,” Ryke says. “All of Aaron’s texts were deleted, which was suspect.”

Lo nods in agreement, and then he leans closer and kisses my cheek. “Okay?” he whispers to me.

I don’t think that’s the right word. I stare at the rug with a faraway gaze.

“What about Ryke?” Rose asks. She holds a small teacup between her

ght ngers. She o ered me a glass earlier, but I declined. I’m not sure my

body can handle inges ng anything else today. I’m already bloated with fear.

Ryke groans. “Not this again.”

“You know about Lily’s sex addic on. You could have told someone.”

He glares. “So do you.”

“Be real. She’s my sister. I’m not going to backstab her.”

“And she’s my brother’s girlfriend,” he snaps back. “Why don’t you focus your a en on on the guy who could easily spill this informa on for a fucking price?”

“Don’t you dare.” Rose points a warning nger at him.

“Why? Connor came into the picture around the same me I did. He learned about her sex addic on at the same exact me as us, and he has more to gain than we do. And he has less to lose.”

“He would lose me,” Rose retorts.

I never wanted to believe that Connor could turn on me like that. I s ll won’t entertain the thought for longer than a second. He’s too nice (in his own way). But Ryke…

Lo scru nizes his brother for a long moment. “Maybe Rose has a point.”

“What?” Ryke leans forward. “You can’t be serious.”

“You may be my half-brother, but you’re also a liar. I think we established that the moment we met.”

“Oh come on.”

“Let’s go back a few months. You came into my life, told me you’re some student wan ng to do a fake project on heirs to billion-dollar companies—”

“Lily made that lie up,” Ryke interjects.

I gape. Way to throw me under! But I already came clean to Lo about that, so there is only a morsel of shame.

Lo rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you knew the whole me that I was your brother, and yet, you never said a word to any of us.”

“You’ve got to be shi ng me,” Ryke says. They must have had this argument mul ple mes while Lo was in rehab. I wasn’t allowed to visit him, but under some strange guidelines, Ryke was. I’m a li le confused how their rela onship has developed since I’ve been away from Lo—but clearly bi erness has festered.

Lo lets out an unhinged laugh. “I’m the bastard. I tore apart your parent’s marriage when I was born. You should hate me. I would hate me.” He takes a small breath. “And then I would build an elaborate scheme to tear me down. Piece by piece. Star ng with Lily. So forgive me if I’m having a hard me trus ng you one-hundred-and-ten percent.”

I can’t tell if Ryke is angry or upset by Lo’s declara on, but I know this goes beyond my silly accusa on. Deep hurt lls Lo’s words.

“Really? Even a er everything I’ve done while you’ve been in rehab?” Ryke asks.

“You mean keeping your cock away from my girlfriend. Yeah, thanks.”

My eyes bug. I would jerk away from Lo if his hand wasn’t pressed so

ghtly to my hip. Something’s wrong. I can sense it. We handle stress

di erently. I fuck and he drinks. Now that we can’t do either, we’re both trying to learn how to deal with it in a healthy manner. Trying is the key word here.

“You know that’s not it,” Ryke refutes.

“Sure.”

This one word makes Ryke look more livid than the past twenty, and I think this is it. Ryke is about to throw up his hands and leave. Lo tenses beside me, probably expec ng the same thing. We alienate people. It’s what we’re good at.

“If I wanted to hurt you by crea ng some elaborate plot, I would have already screwed Lily. And I sure as hell wouldn’t bother spending me with you.”

I want to trust Ryke, mainly because he’s the only family Lo has for support, but he’s a good liar like Lo said. He even fooled me.

Lo ashes his usual bi er smile, normally accompanied with the raise of his bourbon. I can’t make sense of where his thoughts lie.

Before I can whisper in his ear to ask, the front door opens, and the silence se les like a weight. Connor’s loafers hit the hardwood, the noise heightening the tension.

He appears from the foyer, his thick wavy brown hair styled perfectly, as though he’s ready for a congressional speech at any moment. He slips his cellphone in his black slacks, his white bu on-down tucked in the waistband. From afar, he inspects Ryke’s s posture on the Queen Anne

chair and Lo’s death clutch on the couch’s armrest.

“I missed something,” Connor states. “Was it good?” He looks to Rose.

“Only if you enjoy the unintelligible mumblings of Neanderthals.” Her tone is pure ice.

“Good one, Rose,” Lo says atly.

But Connor rubs his lips to keep from smiling further. And when Connor smiles at my sister, I instantly straighten up and lean forward like two orbi ng stars are about to touch and kiss. I want to be present when they do.

Lo pinches my hip as Connor takes a seat next to Rose, sliding his arm along the back of the cushion behind her.

“You’re my girlfriend,” Lo whispers huskily in my ear, teasing me to take his side of things. But in a game of wits, I should choose the smart op on and go with my sister. Or Connor. Lo is a losing ba le.

“You’re my boyfriend,” I say the obvious. He edges closer, and my heart pounds, his lips right there. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

He eases back.

Damn. I wish I had Professor Xavier’s power, but then again, I wouldn’t want to force Lo to kiss me. I’d want him to want it as much as I do.

Connor gestures a hand between Ryke and Lo. “I’m sensing tension here.”

“Lo was just thanking me for not fucking Lily,” Ryke says.

“Exactly,” Lo replies, his voice equally as dry.

Connor doesn’t even blink. “Must be a brother thing.” He casually turns to Rose, whispers something in her ear and presses a light kiss on her cheek. I cannot believe I’m envious of a kiss right now. But I really am. I want that kiss. Not from Connor! Just to be clear. From Lo. I want the kiss from Lo. My cheeks redden just accidentally thinking the wrong thing. Jeez.

“You okay?” Lo whispers.

I nod, squirm a li le, and rest my cheek on the crook of his arm, safe in his embrace. His muscular body dwarfs my overly skinny frame. I’m working on being healthier too. All skin and bones is not a good look.

Rose puts her hands up to Connor’s chest, blocking him from scoo ng closer. “A brother thing? What’s going on here is not normal between brothers. You don’t see Greg Brady thanking Peter for not having sex with Marsha.”

“No because that would be incest,” Connor says.

She shoots him a look. “It’s not incestuous because Marsha is only the stepsister.”

“True.” His eyes it to her lips and back to her sharp gaze. “And I’m surprised you used the word ‘normal.’ I thought we agreed last week that it’s arbitrary and too subjec ve to have any real merit.”

She gives me a look like why am I with him again?

I smile and really want to say: Because you’re two nerd stars, orbi ng and meant to kiss. But that won’t make sense to anyone but me.

Rose and Connor have had an odd three months together, constantly breaking up over intellectual disputes like this and reuni ng only a week later. Their rela onship is something I can’t quan fy or really understand. I think maybe you have to have a higher IQ or something. But I love watching them like Lo and I do Japanese cartoons. We can’t comprehend what they’re saying, but it’s s ll fun to tune in every week.

Rose points a manicured nger at his chest. “You can’t discount an en re word just because you don’t think it has merit, Richard.” Ooh, she used his real rst name. “You’re basically saying Foucault’s en re

sociological studies were worthless.”

My head hurts trying to listen to them, but I’m strangely enthralled.

“Hey,” Lo cuts in, clapping his hands. They both look at us like we’ve just appeared in the room. “You two can discuss normal people and Faulkner later.”

“Foucault,” Rose corrects him.

“What?”

“It’s Foucault. Not Faulkner.”

“Whatever, they both start with an F,” Lo snaps. “You know what else starts with an F?”

“Fuck you,” Connor beats him to it. He also says it so casually—like he’s trying to answer an Academic Bowl ques on. I can’t help but break out into a grin.

Lo catches me smiling and gives me a look. I press my lips together to try to contain it, but it’s too hard and I probably seem goofy instead. The corner of his mouth quirks. My heart u ers because for the rst me in three months, I can see these reac ons.

He draws forward and places a light kiss on my nose. I didn’t even have to chant kiss me for him to do it. I bite my bo om lip, giddiness replaced by dangerous thoughts. Of yanking Lo into the bedroom, easing him onto the ma ress, straddling his waist and skimming my ngers over each ridge in his abs. And then his half-smile will extend to his whole face, the grin enough to light up my body.

I could mumble some lame excuse to leave the mee ng, but my throat

ghtens and guilt festers, even though I haven’t taken a step towards my

bedroom yet. Planning out the events makes me feel like a failure. Why is that?

“You look good by the way,” Connor tells Lo.

“Thanks.”

I forgot they haven’t seen each other since Lo’s s nt in rehab. I squint at Connor and put him on my pedestal of suspects. Maybe Ryke is right. In return for the info about my sex addic on, Connor could bribe his way into Wharton—the pres gious graduate school at Penn where he plans to go for an MBA.

Connor meets my gaze, and his brow arches like he knows I’m unlawfully incrimina ng him.

He can see straight through me.

My cheeks redden, and I immediately overturn my hasty judgments. There’s no way Connor would sell me out. He nds chea ng too easy, and he’s more moral than 99% of our family’s social circle. So that leaves Ryke. And Rose. But Rose would be more likely to burn her en re fashion line— Calloway Couture—than throw me to the cannibalis c media. And she loves her collec on like a mother does a baby.

Lo isn’t so quick to let Connor go free. “Did you tell anyone?” he asks.

“No one,” he says calmly.

Lo scratches the back of his neck. “We spent years without anyone knowing Lily’s secret. Then she tells you guys, and a few months later, she’s being threatened about it. I may have dropped out of college, but I can fucking add those pieces together.”

Connor looks him over once. “You were expelled from college, but it’s nice to hear that you’re taking accountability.”

Somehow that insult didn’t seem so bad. It’s all true.

Penn kicked Lo out a er he stopped showing up to class, and he could have a ended another college, but he decided to go to rehab and work on ge ng sober instead.

Lo sighs heavily, frustrated. He just wants answers. I think we all do.

“You’re missing a piece,” Connor tells him.

Lo tenses, and a li le bit of hope surges through me. If anyone can uncover this mystery, it’ll be Connor Cobalt. And most likely Rose too.

“Lily just started seeing a sex therapist that specializes in addic on.”

“You think someone saw her go into the o ce?” Lo asks.

“It’s probable. Why don’t you try tracing the number?”

“It’s unknown.”

“So?”

“I’m sorry. Hacking into phone numbers just isn’t in my repertoire. Lily, you?” He looks to me, and I shake my head. “Didn’t think so.”

“Oh, no,” Connor says quickly, “I know you can’t do something that di cult. I just thought maybe you knew someone who could.”

Ryke cuts in, “You’re actually admi ng you can’t do something, Cobalt?” He looks about ready to jump o the Queen Anne and call the press. Oh wait, he is the press. Maybe he’ll write an ar cle about it tomorrow in The Philadelphia Chronicle and tle it: “Connor Cobalt Doesn’t Know Everything!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Connor says, poker-faced. “I know how to do it. But I won’t. It’s illegal.”

Ryke rolls his eyes and grips his water bo le ghter. I guess that ar cle won’t be happening.

Rose takes a dainty sip from her tea and says, “It’s s ll illegal if you pay someone to do it for you.”

“And if you’re smart about it, you won’t be caught.”

That thing I said about Connor being moral? Scratch that. He masks his emo ons so much that I didn’t see his cunning ways. S ll, I don’t think he would risk losing Rose for a seat at Wharton. At least, I hope not.

“Lo and I already discussed tracing the number,” I speak up. “All my contacts know my family. My parents would start asking ques ons if I hired a private inves gator.” And the whole goal is to keep them in the dark as long as possible. I’m thinking forever is a good amount of me.

Lo nods. “We also don’t want to involve any unreliable third par es. I don’t want to be screwed over by them.”

I perk up as I think of an example. “Like a hacker that lives in his parent’s basement.”

“Yeah,” Lo says. “I don’t see that going very well.”

“I have a trustworthy PI that I can hire,” Connor says. “That’s not a problem.”

Rose smiles into her last sip of tea.

“I’ll pay you back,” I tell Connor.

“I prefer favors.”

Okay, that sounds sexual. When I think of favors, I picture blow jobs.

My face immediately heats, and I try looking away but everyone is already staring at me. I’m doomed.

“Lily!” I hear three voices in varying pitches chas se me. Lo puts an arm over my shoulder and I restrain myself from hiding in his bicep. I will not cower.

I point to Connor accusingly. “He said it, not me!”

“I wasn’t talking about sexual favors,” Connor refutes calmly.

I point to my chest now. “Sex addict, here. My brain has an automa c se ng. I’m not going to be thinking party favors.”

Bringing up the words sex addict was a bad idea, and I regret it as soon as Ryke says, “Speaking of being a sex addict.” I could punch him. “How’s your recovery going to work now that Lo’s back? Are you two allowed to have sex together?”

“It’s complicated,” I mu er. “And I don’t think I should be discussing it with you.”

“She can have some sex,” Lo clari es, apparently un-complica ng it.

I want to disintegrate just a li le.

“What is some sex?” Ryke asks.

Okay, a lot—I want to disintegrate a lot, a lot.

“I can’t talk about it,” Lo says evasively. But really he means: I can’t talk about it in front of Lily. Because I have no idea what “some” entails either. It’s going to drive me bonkers.

I also don’t like that Lo is so quick to share in mate details of our private lives, but I guess he’s trying to be be er about opening up. And it must be easier to focus on my addic on than his own.

“What happens if you start enabling her?” Rose asks, se ng her teacup on the table.

“I won’t,” Lo says with an added glare.

I wish I could conquer my addic on by myself, but my therapist already explained that abs nence isn’t the answer since sex is a natural part of life, unlike alcohol. A person can go forever without tas ng liquor, but almost everyone has sex when they reach a certain age. And sex involves two people.

So I have to learn how to have a healthy sex life with Lo instead of the one where he feeds into my compulsions. And I can work on being more self-reliant without turning to self-love.

I sigh. It’s all so complicated. It all feels so hard.

“This isn’t the same as Lily giving you a glass of whiskey, Loren,” Rose says. “We’ll all be able to tell if you drink, but none of us will have a clue if you’re enabling her.” Because that means he’ll let me fuck him exactly how I want, when I want. I’ll be so high and so full of Loren Hale that I won’t ever want to leave the bedroom and meet real life.

It sounds so much be er than it should.

“You didn’t know I was an alcoholic for years,” Lo refutes. “Believe me, you won’t know if I fall o the wagon one me. It’s the same.”

“I’ll be able to tell,” Ryke says.

“And me,” Connor adds. “I had no clue Lily was addicted to sex, but it didn’t take more than a day for me to gure out that you had an alcohol problem.”

Ryke scratches his hard jaw, cut like stone. “You knew he was addicted, and you drank beer with him? In fact, I saw you buying him Fat Tire at a bar.”

“He’s a true friend,” Lo says with a bi er smile. He says things just to agitate people, I swear.

Ryke looks like he wants to stand up and smack the back of his head.

Rose spins on Connor, but he doesn’t cower beneath her penetra ng gaze. “You knew and you drank beer with him?”

“I just met him. I wasn’t planning to revolu onize his life.”

“You mean you saw what made him happy, and you gladly en ced him with it to become his friend.”

Lo cuts in, “You’re ac ng like he shot me up with heroine.”

“He may as well have,” Ryke retorts.

Okay, when did this mee ng become a pla orm to gang up on Connor?

“Just drop it,” Lo snaps.

Connor stays quiet, and Rose doesn’t look like she’s ready to forgive him so easily. I’m sure they’ll have a whole philosophical discussion about it later.

And unfortunately, she remembers the source of our argument.

“Your addic on, Lo, is not the same as Lily’s,” she says. “When you weren’t here, suppor ng Lily was simple. Now that you’re back, I feel like you’re the only person allowed to be involved in her recovery process. And how healthy is that? You just got out of rehab.”

Should I even be here for this conversa on? It feels beyond me, even though they’re talking about me.

His voice so ens considerably, losing the usual edge. “I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m her boyfriend. She’s a sex addict. Of course I’m going to be the most involved in ge ng her healthy. I know what you’re saying. I know what you’re all saying.” He looks to Ryke and Connor. “I can’t tell you to just trust me, not when I have twenty-one years of being a shi y person on my record. But this situa on is weird and unconven onal and really, really fucked up. And we’re going to have to

gure out how to do it.”

I stare at my hands, a li le uncomfortable but also a li le grateful they’re not talking behind my back.

“All I want,” Rose tells him, “is for you to not close us all out. If you think you’re doing something wrong or you can’t handle it, don’t just ignore it. You have to tell someone, and it doesn’t have to be me. If you feel more comfortable talking to Ryke or Connor or even the therapist, whoever. I just don’t want Lily to su er because you can’t reach out.”

I understand her fears. We’ve isolated ourselves for so long that closing everyone o would be a natural regression. I just never really thought about it outright.

“I promise.”

She looks a li le taken aback by how easily he relented.

“We both want the same thing,” Lo reminds her.

For the rst me Lo and Rose seem to agree on something, but it only puts an insane amount of pressure on me. They may think Lo will enable me. But I fear I’ll screw everything up all on my own.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER FOUR

LILY CALLOWAY

RYKE AND CONNOR leave a er we establish a plan to track down the texter. Connor will call his private inves gator and then the rest of us will start making a list of Lo’s enemies. I just hope I don’t see my face on the cover of People tomorrow.

Lo is already in bed when I shut the bathroom door. The lamp bathes him in a warm light, and he looks content as he scribbles in a journal. The nightstand seems so bare without his glass of whiskey. We’re both going through a monumental change, and we haven’t even discussed our futures or anything serious since he’s been back. The texts kind of sent us into an immediate tailspin.

His gaze rises from his journal, and he studies me as I stand in the middle of the room, unsure about what to do.

I’ve lasted three months without sex, but I also didn’t have him here, in bed with me. The equivalent for Lo would be snuggling with a bo le of Jack Daniel’s. Cuddling with my own vice seems dangerous, but I can’t be abs nent forever. I have to gure how to do this the right way.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and closes his journal, the pen s cking from the pages.

“We’re not going to have sex tonight?” I ask for the third me today.

“No, love, not tonight.”

I try to let the words sink in again, but they hurt and my chest ghtens in return. It feels like rejec on even though it shouldn’t. “Maybe I should sleep on the couch,” I say so ly. “Un l I get used to you being back.” Un l I can stop thinking about you inside of me.

“I can handle you, Lil. I won’t let you break your vows.”

My vows. The four personal rules I set for myself, unlike the blacklist that my therapist set for me.

No porn.

No masturba on.

Less compulsivity during sex.

And never, ever cheat on Loren Hale.

How can four simple tasks feel so out of my control? Especially the third one. I hear what he’s saying, I do. But somewhere between his lips and my ears, everything distorts and my insecuri es win out.

“I can be very persuasive,” I mu er.

His lips rise. “I think I’ll survive.”

“You’re a guy,” I remind him—as if this changes everything.

He full-on grins. “That, I’m aware of.”

My anxiety peaks, unable to even relish in his sexy smile. “But if I’m on the couch, I won’t be tempted. And…and when I’m in bed with you, I know I’ll try to have sex with you, even when I know I shouldn’t.”

“Lily—”

“And I don’t want to be weak and begging, but it’s inevitable, right? You’re like my crack.”

“Lil—”

“That’s me: the pathe c, horny girl who jumps her boyfriend and keeps on doing it when he says no.” I gasp. “Oh my God. I’m like a rapist. I’ll try to rape you every night.”

He touches my cheeks and I inch back instantly.

“Whoa! When did you get over here?” My heart pounds so hard that it beats like a drum in my ears.

He doesn’t move away, his hands cup my face tenderly, his eyes full of raw concern.

“Did you get a superpower in rehab?” I ask in a small voice, already knowing the truth. I freaked out to a new degree, not even no cing him climb o the bed.

“Yeah,” he whispers, so close to me now. “Just not the one you think.” He brushes o an escaped tear with his thumb. “You’re sick.”

I inhale a strained breath. The words from his lips are soul-crushing, even though they’re true. I try and jerk away but his hand slides down the back of my neck. The other one on my shoulder keeps me rooted here.

“I’m sick too,” he says, “and there will be mes where we’re weak. Where we beg for the things we can’t have. But you can’t be scared of that, Lil. You can’t live your life sleeping on a couch because of it. You just have to believe that you’ll be strong enough in the end. Even if the middle is all fucked up.”

No distor on of his words this me. I understand him. I close the distance between us and bury my head into his chest.

He holds onto me and kisses the top of my head. “And you’re not a rapist.” I can sense him smiling. “You’re my girlfriend who can’t control her compulsions.”

“I like that be er,” I mumble. We stay s ll for a li le while, and I let him rub the back of my head un l my pulse eases to a temperate rhythm. Why does something so small, like sleeping in a bed, have to be such a challenge?

I detach from his warm body and climb into bed, slipping beneath the so sheets.

He watches me as I build a pillow barricade between my side and his. I’m sure I’ll destroy it later. I look up when I nish. “Stop smiling,” I tell him.

“No cuddling?”

“Not tonight.”

“That’s my line.”

I sit halfway up as he stores his journal in the nightstand drawer. “You learned a lot in rehab, huh?” A part of me thinks I missed out on a secret to bea ng addic on. Lo seems to know more than me or at least his con dence level towers over mine. But I couldn’t go to rehab. Not without ou ng my secret to my family, and anyway, group therapy doesn’t sound like the right avenue for me.

Now that we’re home, Lo decided not to a end AA mee ngs. Even Ryke said he shouldn’t go to them. I don’t understand why that is. And Lo doesn’t share much about his recovery, but he did say that he’s s ll going to see his therapist regularly—one that lives in New York. Some days I have to pinch myself to believe that he went to rehab only an hour from Princeton. I’m glad I didn’t know. I probably would have found a way to see him when I wasn’t supposed to.

“I learned enough there,” he tells me, sliding his legs under the covers. “And I plan to teach you everything I know.”

I smile. That sounds nice. I lie back down as he leans over and yanks the cord to the lamp, blanke ng the room in darkness.

There’s something invigora ng about the dead of night. How, right before you go to sleep, your mind springs awake. My thoughts ood all at once. Between the threatening texts and my barely passing grades in Princeton, I’m over owing with anxiety. Not to men on that with Lo back, his problems seem to become mine. He’s broke, jobless, and has quit college. His rela onship with his father was already complicated, now I don’t even know if he’ll have one at all.

I have more problems than I can solve in one night. I shut my eyes, willing on sleep. But it stays locked away. Great, I’ve conquered ge ng into bed but now I can’t even sleep.

I roll onto my side and pull down the top pillow in my pillow-barricade. It’s enough to see Lo’s face. He turns a frac on, and with my eyes adjusted to the dark, I can see him pre y clearly. “Did you learn a trick to fall asleep?” I whisper.

“Don’t think about anything.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Then try picturing a fuzzy television.”

“Do you not remember The Ring? If I try that then a girl is going to crawl out of the imaginary TV and slaughter my subconscious.”

I expect him to laugh but his voice turns serious. “How did you fall asleep when I wasn’t here?”

I go quiet. It varied nightly. Some were spent crying myself to sleep, others I masturbated un l I passed out. When I gave up self-love, it took me hours to doze o the proper way, and in the end I resigned to fantasies to distract me into a light slumber.

“Normally,” I end up saying, even if the word reminds me of Connor and Rose’s argument earlier. “It just takes me awhile. I’ll try the fuzzy television trick. Maybe it won’t be so scary.”

We roll away from each other again, and I close my eyes. I can’t picture the TV long enough to stop my thoughts. I remember how easily it is to fall asleep a er some self-love. It’s the best natural sleeping pill in the world.

My hand rests on my stomach, and I lower my ngers un l I touch the hem of my pajama shorts. The impulse bites me and writhes in my belly. I hear that li le voice telling me it’ll be okay. That I can do it this once and Lo won’t even know. I’ll stealthily slip my ngers into my pan es and just rub my clit un l everything feels be er. I’ll climax and then fall asleep.

The steps prepared for me are just so easy to follow. My ngers slide beneath my co on shorts and onto the top of my underwear. I ick my

ngers up and down outside of them, trying to gain the courage to go

further…or stop. But I somehow always remain in purgatory, gh ng for one side or the other.

This is wrong. I know this is wrong.

“Lo,” I say very so ly, thinking maybe he’ll s ll be asleep. Maybe it’s fate.

“Lil, you say something?” he whispers back.

I don’t move my hand. Hell, I don’t even blink. Words tumble in my head like a Bingo machine and I can’t seem to connect them together to form sentences.

I must hesitate too long because he ips on the lights, and my eyes shut quickly. I freeze, hoping he won’t no ce anything under the covers. He can’t see my hand in my shorts a er all. As soon as he goes back to sleep, I’ll stop myself from going further.

I’ll make this right.

I just don’t want him to think that I didn’t conquer anything while he was away. I was strong, dammit. I stopped looking at porn. I stopped with the self-love, and I never once cheated on him. But he’ll only see this. And I can’t x the immediate assump ons. That I’m no be er than I was when he le .

Silence bleeds into my head, and I almost think I’ve succeeded. And then cold air prickles my skin, the blanket leaving my body. Oh shit.

My eyes shoot open. Lo has invaded my territory, knocking over the pillow-barricade and gripping my covers. His eyes target my lower-half, where my hand disappears into my shorts. This is so not good.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER FIVE

LOREN HALE

HERE’S the thing about Lily Calloway. She’s obsessed with masturba ng. Not the I-love-to-get-o -before-I-sleep or jerk-one-out-in-the-shower kind of self-pleasure. She fucks to come, and if that means fucking herself every minute of the day then she gets it done.

Regre ably, I even facilitated her habit. I thought that every video I bought her was one less dick she would ride. One less risk of disease and guilt. I was so fucking stupid.

I grip her wrist ghtly. When she told me that she stopped

masturba ng for a full month, it was di cult to believe. I’ve watched her hide in a bedroom for hours on end just to please herself. Qui ng seems like the biggest accomplishment she’s ever had. Now, I’m not sure it’s true, even if Rose vouched for her progress.

I slowly shi the hem of her pajama shorts. My shoulders drop in relief. Her palm rests above her pan es. Maybe Rose was right. Maybe she did stop masturba ng, but obviously it’s harder for Lily when I’m here.

I’m her drug, her means to a high. But I see the life she’ll lead if I’m gone—really gone and never coming back. She’ll return to strangers, to sex with random men. She may even venture into the dangerous side of her addic on—chat rooms and anonymous sex. I can’t let her go down that road.

I retrieve her hand and lace her ngers with mine, not gently. My hand squeezes hers like she’s dangling o a cli . She might as well be.

“I didn’t do anything,” she defends.

“You were going to, Lil.” I don’t know if this is true, but it’s a fear that ra les my heart as much as hers.

She sucks in a breath. “This is too hard,” she says. “I feel like I can’t escape my addic on. If I’m with you, I want to have sex with you. If I’m alone, I want to fuck me. Nowhere is safe.”

Christ.

My hands slide to her wrists, and I pull her into my arms. Our embrace isn’t so . I’m not a teddy bear that girls can clutch. I’m sharp and hard, the thing that braces a girl to the bed, the one who grips her strongly and whispers with a husky, edged voice. I’m as rough on the outside as I am black on the inside.

Holding Lily usually solves our problems, but she ghts me this me. Ramming her ny sts into my hard chest, trying to push me away. “Are you not hearing me?” she says, shoving my bicep. “I can’t sleep next to you.”

I keep her in my arms easily, my muscles exing as I wrap them around her. “Lil, shh,” I say, my lips nding her ear.

“I can’t!” she shouts, tears beginning to pool.

“Lil, you can,” I whisper deeply. “Shh.” I lock her arms together for a minute, her body wedged between my legs. Tonight will be the most di cult, I remind myself. It’s confusing for her. She wants to be with me, but my mere presence tempts her. I don’t ever want her to believe that being alone, being apart, is the solu on.

It’s not.

She needs me as much as I need her. We just have to nd our foo ng in this rela onship. And that takes me.

She grows restless, so I roll on top of her, pinning her legs down with mine, trapping her small frame. She seems to se le, but her chest rises and falls heavily, fear swimming in her eyes.

“Who do you trust more, me or you?” I ask.

“You.” She doesn’t even hesitate.

“Then this is how we’re going to sleep.”

She frowns. “I’m not sure I can hold your weight.”

I smile. This is why I love her—why I relish in the fact that I’m going to wake up next to her, my arms wrapped around her delicate body. She’s fucking adorable. “No, like this…”

I slide o Lily and easily readjust. I tug her closer, and my arm holds her small waist against me. We’re spooning, her back to my chest. Now, where is that fucking hand?

I nd her right hand curled up underneath her breast, and I take it in mine. Then I intertwine my ngers with hers, securing them with determined force. No more masturba ng, Lil.

I’m about to o cially instate our new sleeping posi on, but her ass presses harder into my cock. She’s scoo ng back, either on purpose or subconsciously, I have no clue. It’s s ll kind of cute, but it doesn’t help.

I lean back and grab a small pillow, and then I wedge it between my dick and her ass. “Be er?”

“Depends who you’re asking—Horny Lily or Good Lily?”

I love them both. I press my lips to her ear. “I love you.”

“…I don’t have much love for myself at the moment,” she mu ers in a small voice. I can see her shrinking internally, her self-worth dropping lower and lower from the guilt.

“Hey, I’d be passed out already if I had to sleep in the same bed with a bo le of booze. You’re doing all right. And this is new for both of us, Lil. It’s going to be lots of trial and error. Now we know that we have to sleep like this. Okay?”

“Are we going to have sex in the morning?”

The ques on doesn’t annoy me. S ll, I’m not used to telling her no. I’m usually the one teasing her un l she’s hot and bothered. But I can’t do a goddamn thing. Because that would be enabling.

So I say, “We’ll see.”

She sinks back into me—and that damn pillow—as I watch her dri to sleep. When I know she’s safely in slumber’s hold, I allow myself the same luxury.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER SIX

LOREN HALE

MY HEART BEATS WILDLY, my muscles burn and my legs pump. I run. Around and around. There is no end.

If I stop soon, I’ll start screaming. The tendons in my calves strain with each foot on the cement track. And I focus on my breathing. In and out. Inhale, exhale. One, two, three…

I’ve always been good at running. Even when I screwed up every fucking thing, I did a decent job at sprin ng right away from the cops, from prep school guys wan ng to smash my face in, from my father and my problems.

Running has kept me alive.

And if I learned anything from rehab, it’s ways to stay busy. But my warring thoughts only make me want to drink. Even bringing up my father, college, the text messages that threaten Lily—any fucking thing, my chest collapses, and I know just the solu on that’ll x everything. Whiskey, bourbon—an amber glass will melt all the pain away.

Yesterday, I almost walked into a bar.

I lose my steady pace on the track, my breath staggering. One…two…

Each foot feels heavier than before. I want to be light as a freakin’ feather. I want to oat right on out of here. But I keep thinking about it.

A smoky bar was directly across the busy intersec on as I waited for Ryke to pick me up from therapy. Tra c, honking cabs and bike messengers never stopped me before. Why should they then? The Jack Daniel’s poster in the front window called out to me like a siren singing her deathly serenade on the edge of a dock.

And I nearly drowned in that sea of bourbon.

Stupid, li le fuck.

I exhale deeply, which only screws with my pace again. Ryke runs by my side, and his eyes icker brie y to me. He purposefully slows his quick stride. Right now, he could sprint laps around me. But he chooses to be here. I should be glad that he wants to work out with me, but I hate that he won’t run as far as he can. I hate that I’m holding him back.

I want to scream.

So I push harder, and I race ahead of him.

Not long a er, Ryke catches up to my side again, and then he taps my shoulder and veers o the collegiate track towards the bleachers. I follow him, trying to avoid the other athletes in Penn shirts as they sprint down the lanes.

I probably shouldn’t have driven all the way to Penn to run around a fucking circle with Ryke, seeing as how I was expelled and he’s not my favorite person at the moment. I don’t believe that he’s the guy threatening to reveal Lily’s secret to the tabloids. There’s mistrust in our rela onship, sure, but he spends too much me driving me to therapy and hanging out with me to have some ulterior mo ve. He could let me ride alone to New York and give me just enough slack to hang myself with.

He could be uncaring.

But Ryke Meadows is many things—uncaring is de nitely not one of them.

I gave him a hard me about the text messages because I’m an asshole, and a huge part of me resents him for things that I can barely process. Each

me I try to understand his childhood where he knew about me and had

contact with my father, my hands shake for a sip of something strong.

I unscrew my water bo le, and two girls approach us, one brune e, the other blonde. Both wear cross-country shirts. I’m surrounded by athletes right now—Ryke being one of them.

“Hey, Ryke,” the blonde says. “Who’s your friend?” She looks me over from head to toe.

I try to wear disinterest, drinking my water, shu ing through my gym bag, anything.

“My brother,” Ryke says so easily. I can barely admit that he’s half of my brother to Lily. Saying that we’re related is so easy for him. But I have to remind myself that he knew about me for years. He just never voiced the truth un l three months ago.

“Oh yeah, I see the resemblance,” she says, her blue eyes ickering between us.

“Yeah, we both have brown hair,” I say. “Shocking, isn’t it? She could even be our sister for all I know.” I gesture to the brune e hanging by the blonde’s side. My tone is not even close to friendly. And I can’t help it. This is how I normally say hi to people. My manners died somewhere around my eleventh birthday.

The blonde lets out a small laugh, trying to blow over my rudeness.

Ryke sets a hand on my shoulder, and he whispers, “Do me a favor and don’t talk.”

If he wants to hook up with one of them, by all means. Have at them. I’m not going to be his wingman on this one. I have a girl wai ng for me at home. I check my watch. Yeah, she should be back from class right about now. I’d rather be there than here. I’d rather be holding her in my arms, even if I have to tell her no by the end of it.

She’s the only good thing in my life.

“This is Laura,” the blonde says, bringing her friend towards Ryke. “She’s a freshman. I thought I’d introduce her to the captain of the track team.”

Ryke checks her out with a slow once-over. The girl is almost as thin as Lily, but muscles pad her legs and arms—they’re just lean like most runners. “How have you liked Penn so far?” Ryke asks.

The girl shrugs, shi ing her weight o one leg and to another. “Oh…you know.”

Ryke does that to women, I’ve no ced. He either stupe es them with his dominance or they start spi ng out lame lines that make no sense.

I’ve yet to really see a girl that can keep up with him.

“That good, huh?” Ryke says, trying to be nice, but this only causes her face to redden.

“It’s been good.” Laura nods.

This is just awkward and slightly painful. I can’t watch the girl be debilitated by embarrassment and nerves anymore. Ryke is slowly peeling o a Band-Aid. I’m going to rip the damn thing for her.

“Hey, Laura,” I say. “You and your friend are on the cross-country team, right?”

Laura nods again.

“I’m Maggie,” the blonde says, perking now that I’ve shown a tad bit of interest.

“Oh great,” I say. “So you and Laura will have no problem running that way.” I point to the other side of the track.

Maggie’s face falls.

I ash a smile. “Bye.”

“Asshole,” she curses. “Come on, Laura.” She grabs her hand and shoots Ryke a look, guilty by associa on. When they disappear, Ryke turns to me with a glare.

“Sorry,” I tell him dryly. “I couldn’t remember how long you told me to keep my mouth shut. It snapped back open, couldn’t stop it.”

Ryke throws his sweaty towel at my face.

I grab it and ing it back. “Hey, that brune e was two seconds from fain ng. I did both of you a favor.”

Ryke shakes his head. “You did yourself a favor. Don’t pretend that insul ng them was for me. I know your mo ves by now.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“Isolate as many people as you can. Drive everyone away.” He zips his gym bag. “Not going to happen with me, not even if you run o every girl I come into contact with.”

I touch my chest. “You would abstain from sex just to be my brother? Wow. That’s generous, Ryke.” My dry humor barely darkens his eyes. I’m looking for a di erent reac on, one that comes with a st to the face, but Ryke never goes there, even if he wants to.

“I’m your older brother no ma er what,” he refutes. “Get that through your fucking head and maybe I wouldn’t have to repeat it all the damn

me.”

“Can you say that again? I couldn’t hear you,” I quip.

He rolls his eyes, and then we both actually share a smile.

I check my watch subconsciously.

“She’s ne,” Ryke assures me.

“Look, you can pretend to know everything about me, but you can’t understand Lily the way I do.” I’ve watched her cry and shake in a bathroom because she craved sex—because she couldn’t have it. And she wouldn’t turn to me for help back then. Now that we’re together, I should have the power to take her pain away. But I don’t. Because she’s trying to control these impulses. And so I’m back where I started, watching her shake, watching her eyes grow big and wide, pleading for something more. And I have to deny her that pleasure. Over and over.

“You forget that I was here while you were in rehab,” Ryke says. “I’ve seen her at a low.”

No, I never forget that. “Great.”

“You’d rather be there with her, I know that. But didn’t Rose tell you—”

“I get it,” I snap. Our rela onship needs room to breathe—Rose so very pointedly put it the other day. I’m trying to give Lily more space. I’m making a conscious e ort to change our co-dependent rela onship.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck.

But I have nowhere else to be but right here. No other invita ons from friends (I have none) or family (my father prac cally disowned me). No job. No school. I am a worthless piece of shit. I grimace and turn that into a half-smile, shaking my head. I chug half of my water to drown these stupid thoughts.

“Have you started taking Antabuse yet?” Ryke asks.

The doctors at rehab prescribed me a drug for my recovery, and I forgot I told Ryke about it. If I drink on the meds, I’ll have stomach pains and severe nausea. It’s supposed to deter alcoholics from falling o the wagon. And even though I decided not to a end AA mee ngs, I s ll need to follow the right steps to get healthy.

I didn’t tell Lily why I’m not going to AA. The reason will make her think I’m even more fucked up. I’m a hard person to be around, and when I was in rehab, I pushed two recovering addicts to drink and break their short sobriety.

I always say the wrong things.

And the facility administra on forbade me from going to group mee ngs because I was “adversely a ec ng my peers.” They also highly advised I not a end AA mee ngs in fear that I would be the same asshole there.

Ryke agreed with them.

So here I am.

“I haven’t taken it yet,” I tell Ryke. “I think I’m going to start tomorrow.” I’ve heard horror stories about people becoming violently ill just from a sip of beer. I wanted to have a couple days without that su oca ng fear before I started.

“You should take it now. Do you have it on you?” Ryke asks. He’s such a fucking pusher.

“No,” I snap. He doesn’t listen to me, already unzipping my bag and rummaging through it. “What is this, TSA? Leave my shit alone, Ryke.” He

nds the inside zipper easily and holds up an orange bo le. His eyebrows

rise accusingly.

My teeth ache as I bite down. “Wow, you found my pill bo le. Congratula ons. Now put it back.”

I wait for him to yell at me for lying. I prepare for the verbal onslaught with narrowed eyes, ready to combat or storm away.

But he never men ons it. Instead, he uncaps the bo le and doles out a pill on his palm. “Take it,” he says roughly. “If you’re wai ng for yourself to fuck up, then you might as well fuck up while you’re on it. I’m sure puking all night a er a shot of whiskey will do you some good.”

He’s right.

I hate that he’s right.

I take the pill from him and toss it back with some water. It feels o cial. Like this is it. No alcohol. Forever.

Forever.

God.

I have a sudden impulse to run to the bathroom and s ck my nger down my throat. Somehow my Nikes weigh me down on the trimmed grass, and I clench my water bo le as I take another large swig.

Ryke starts to stretch, pulling his arm across his chest. “Have you spoken to Dad?”

“No.” I leave it at that, not wan ng to be probed about our father. No one really understands my rela onship with him. Not Lily. De nitely not Ryke.

And it’s more complicated than just hate and dislike. It’s what drives my mind wild. It’s what makes me seriously want to kick that fucking bleacher and grab a beer.

But I remember Lily, and I immediately tell myself no. No alcohol. Ever. One memory has kept me grounded for a while, deaf to any compelling arguments from the devil on my shoulder. It’s what stopped me from heading into that bar yesterday.

In my foggy memory, I wake up, glazed and half-delirious to the people in my kitchen. Rose, Connor and Ryke camped out in my living room like the Scooby Gang. And the three of them told me the night’s events—as though I wasn’t even there. My body was, but my head was oa ng in another dimension.

And Ryke was the only one who could stomach the words. “You fucking passed out while a guy a acked Lily.”

And “a ack” was an understatement. Something could have happened that night. But it didn’t. Ryke and Connor stopped the guy when that should have been me. My whole life, I had one fucking job. Protect Lily. Make sure her addic on doesn’t get the be er of her. Make sure she doesn’t get hurt. She did the same for me. And I failed her. Somewhere down the line, I fucked up.

Never again.

Ryke holds out his arms like what the hell, and I remember what he asked me. Have you spoken to Dad?

“I said no,” I tell him again, like the answer isn’t registering in his head.

“No, that’s it?” Ryke wants more. Everyone wants more.

But I feel like I’m giving everything I have.

“I thought it was a yes or no ques on. What else is there?” Lots. But nothing I can bear to say out loud. My father le me a few messages on my phone the past week.

I want to have lunch, Loren.

We need to talk.

Don’t push me out of your life over something this fucking stupid.

Call me back.

I’ve ignored him so far, but I can’t forever. There’ll be a point where I’ll have to face my father. It won’t be for money, but the allure of a handout will always be there. Because it’s so fucking easy. Drinking, that’s easy. Taking his money, that’s easier.

The hard things are the right things, I’ve learned. But I’m not Connor Cobalt—built with the infallible ability to go the extra mile, to do the extra work. I’m the kinda guy that always stops short.

But I do have a plan for some cash. The only problem—it involves a conversa on with Rose Calloway.

“He’s going to try to buy you back,” Ryke tells me. “That’s what he fucking does, and you’re going to have to say no. He’s your fucking trigger, Lo. You shouldn’t be around him while you’re recovering.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, lugging my bag over my shoulder. Most days, I regret asking Ryke to be my sponsor. Even if he’s pre y good at it. Trigger or not, Jonathan Hale is my father. Ryke doesn’t understand him the way I do.

He’s not all bad.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER SEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

MY SECOND TEST score came back last week, and it was a big fat F. I knew transferring from an Ivy League to another Ivy League wasn’t the cure for my poor grades, but I hoped that Princeton would kick my lazy bu into gear.

With Rose running around the same campus as me, I should be more mo vated. Plus, my hours are no longer wasted away on porn and self-love. But I didn’t predict that my me would be consumed by therapy in New York and trying to rebuild my rela onships with my sisters. Ge ng healthy and making amends is almost as big a me bandit as wallowing in my addic on.

A tutor sits beside me, though he’s not doing much “tutoring.”

For the past thirty minutes, I watched him browse Rich Kids of Instagram, a site that I boyco and nd generally revol ng. I nudge him to help me twice, and he points to my book. “Do another problem,” he says without peeling his eyes from his phone.

I miss the days where Connor Cobalt gave me a hundred-and-ten percent of his tutoring a en on, even going as far as making me

ashcards.

Sebas an Ross may just be the worst tutor alive.

He invades my personal space for a second, and I think he may actually be showing me how to do a Sta s cs problem.

He s cks his phone beneath my nose. “Whose watch do you like be er?” He extends his wrist and holds it by the screen, the band gold and the gadgetry so complex that my eyes hurt. The one in the picture is no simpler. A teenager stands outside his gray-bricked mansion, wrists displayed like he’s preparing to box.

“Neither.”

“Amuse me.”

Amuse him? How about amuse me! I’m the one who should be entertained by numbers and words. Connor would know how to make studying fun.

I try not to glare. “I like my watch.”

Sebas an’s one eyebrow arches, so smarmy and eli st that I have to give him props for mastering the technique. He snatches my wrist to inspect the device. He hu s. “You’re wearing a toy.” He icks the plas c cap, nearly causing the hands of the clock to stop.

“Hey,” I say, retrac ng my arm and clutching my wrist to my chest. “That’s Wolverine, you know.” The yellow and blue band buckles on my bony wrist, and the X-Men hero is printed inside the watch-face.

He looks mildly interested now. “Is it a collec ble?”

“…maybe.”

He restrains the urge to roll his eyes. “Where’d you get it?” he asks. “The kid’s sec on in Target?”

My cheeks redden even though they shouldn’t. “No,” I retort. “Lo won it from a vending machine. You know, the ones where you put a quarter in and it drops out the li le egg thing.” We had a seventy- ve percent chance to get either Superman or Batman, so when Wolverine popped out, it seemed like fate. We were easily entertained.

Sebas an grimaces. He has a pre y good s nk-face too. “You touched those things?” He returns to his phone, scrolling. “Some mes I wonder how you’re related to your sister.”

Some mes I wonder why she’s friends with you.

I would exchange Sebas an for a be er model, but not when Rose asked him, her best friend, to tutor me. Before Connor came into the picture, Sebas an escorted Rose to every social func on, her go-to arm candy.

He leans back on the couch, wearing khaki slacks, a blazer and glasses with wide frames and thin rims. I have a suspicion that he’s someone who only wears glasses for show, not func on. And his honey blond hair is slicked neatly and parted on the side, groomed and styled.

Even if he didn’t take the me to look good, Sebas an is the kind of person that was born to be pre y.

Normally I’d be tempted. But I have Loren Hale.

And Sebas an is gay. So there’s that.

When he snorts out loud, I catch a glimpse of his cell. There’s a picture of a guy si ng in a hot tub on a million-dollar yacht, surrounded by expensive bo les of champagne.

Now I roll my eyes. I really want to grab the phone from his hand and chuck it across the room. “Have you even taken Stat?” I ask.

“Stats.”

“What?”

“It’s called Stas csssss,” he says, hissing the “s” for further emphasis. “Not Sta s c.” His gaze stays xated on that stupid phone.

“Have you taken Statsssss,” I hiss back.

“Yes, it’s an under level requirement for business majors at Princeton,” he says sharply. “Obviously Penn has di erent standards.”

Being insulted by my tutor isn’t a new thing for me, but I’m not taking his jabs easily. Maybe because he seems more interested in pictures of rich kids showing o their Ferraris and guzzling liquor.

“You know, Rose claimed that you’re some kind of hot-shot tutor on campus—that you even have a wai ng list,” I snap.

“I am. And I do.”

“People actually pay you to ignore them?” I shut my book. I’ve known Sebas an since I was ten, but I spent more me at the Hale residence than my own, so know is really up for debate. He has always been into appearances, especially clothes (which as a fashion designer, Rose values in a friend), and his ostenta ousness is nothing new.

But I didn’t know he was such a raging dick.

He’s actually looking at me this me. “They pay me for other things.”

Like sexual things? I frown. No, that can’t be right.

Can it?

He sees my brows scrunch in confusion.

“I do have a wai ng list,” he says, “but not for tutoring.”

That clari es nothing. A naked Sebas an pops in my head, ge ng proposi oned for sex like a gigolo. I withhold the urge to ask if he’s a hooker. Although it’s there, threatening to be blurted out.

“Then…what?” I mumble. Wow, that took a lot of self-control.

His leg drops from his knee and he leans forward to grab his leather briefcase. What if he sells sex toys? Okay, doub ul, but he would jump up ten points in likability for me.

He pulls something heavy out and sets it on my textbook before zipping his briefcase closed.

These aren’t dildos or vibrators or Ben Wa balls.

It’s paper. Stacks of stapled paper with red markings along the margin.

They’re old exams.

This is one of those moments where someone hands you a joint and you have to make a choice to either pass it on or take a pu .

“Isn’t this chea ng?” I ask, not touching the papers on my lap. Fingering one may just corrupt me.

Sebas an slides a pack of cigare es from his pocket and slaps the carton on his palm. “Don’t scribble the answers on your hand,” he says. “Memorize them. That can’t be too di cult for you, can it?”

He twirls a cigare e between two ngers.

“Rose won’t like it if you smoke in here.”

Sebas an arches that one brow again and gives me a look like I know Rose be er than you. He lights the cigare e.

Fine. Rose will do a be er job reprimanding him anyway. I ip through the old exams, most of them marked up with A’s. “What if the ques ons are di erent?”

“You have Dr. Harris,” Sebas an says. “He always recycles ques ons from tests. Just be sure to memorize all of them.”

I thumb through the stack. “There must be y exams in here.” How

can I memorize all of them?

“They date back ten years. So yeah, there’s a lot.”

I hesitate to use them as a study tool, even though it’s not outright chea ng. “And you can’t actually tutor me?”

He blows a line of smoke towards the ceiling. “You didn’t just sort-of fail your rst two exams, Lily. You bombed. Most students would be crying in a corner, and if they had me as a resource, they’d be riding my—”

“Okay,” I cut him o . And then realize that sounds like I actually want to ride his… “I mean, never mind.” I shake my head, roas ng from the forehead down.

He wears a crooked smile as he puts the cig to his lips. “To pass the class, you have to make A’s on the last two tests and the nal. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“Connor Cobalt is,” I mu er under my breath.

He must hear because he says, “Connor thinks he pisses rainbows, but he’s not that good. And he’s de nitely not be er than me.” He leans forward and taps ash in my plas c cup—full with Fizz Life, Fizzle’s new soda, zero calories and no aspartame. I stare at the soiled drink for a long while, trying to process what he just did.

But when I turn, I see him tapping more ash into the porcelain vase on the end table that a friend of Rose’s gi ed her from Prague. “Rose is going to skin you alive.”

He smiles that smarmy smile again. “She’s all growl.”

I’m not so sure about that. When we were kids at a beach resort, she saw a freckle-faced boy picking on a girl near a water slide. He called the young girl fat and pointed at her one-piece. Rose intervened and used some choice language that would make eight-year-olds blush. When the pudgy boy didn’t respond how she hoped, she grabbed his swim-trunks and yanked them to his ankles.

A er that, I was glad to have my sister on my side. I never wanted to cross her. And even as I think about that story, I realize she would kill me if she knew I was even sort of chea ng.

But what’s worse, hearing her wrath a er I use the tests or seeing her disappointment by failing out of Princeton? Disappointment can cripple me. So the former is de nitely more appealing.

“Look, Lily,” Sebas an says. “College is all about bea ng the system, and the smartest people are the ones who gure that out. You want to be smart, don’t you?”

For the rst me in a while, I have a gh ng chance to do well. “Okay.”

“So you keep those and you memorize hard. I have copies of them, of course.” He rises and bu ons his navy blazer. He wanders around the living room, bored. “And don’t men on this to Rose. I love her, but she’s moral to a fault. It’s kind of annoying actually.”

I ignore his last slight. I can’t believe I have to lie to Rose, but this seems like the right path. I can’t fail more classes. I’ll be in college un l I’m forty.

I set the old exams next to a tall stack of tabloid magazines on the co ee table. I went out this morning and bought every gossip mag in the gas sta on. I checked for my picture, any ar cle, any brief men on of my addic on. Rose even searched through the newspaper and online posts, but we both came up blank. Either the blackmailer is stalling or he’s wai ng for another opportune moment to strike.

We don’t even know what he wants yet. He just keeps threatening.

“So…” I trail o as I watch Sebas an pick up a porcelain ballerina on the

replace mantel, checking the underside for the designer or the

authen city. “If Rose believes you’re actually tutoring me, what do I tell her when you’re not here on Thursday?”

“I’ll be here, pretending. I can even bring more old exams for your other classes.” He sets the gurine down. “You copy them, though, and I’ll make your life a living hell.” His blasé voice makes the warning worse, somehow.

My phone pings, and I pick it up to check the message. The sound interests Sebas an enough to saunter over and plop by my side again.

Is Rose home? – Connor

Not yet. I text back.

Sebas an catches the conversa on over my shoulder. He puts his cigare e to his lips, wai ng for the response, but there is none. I’m about to slip my phone in my pocket, but Sebas an says, “Give that here.” And he steals the cell from my hands.

I should protest and put up a ght, but his I’ll make your life a living hell line is ringing in my head. He’s kind of scary.

Sebas an types quickly and sends, Why do you want to know? He’s too curious, nosy and bored.

I le her something at the gate. I wanted to know if she’s seen it

yet. – Connor

Sebas an snorts. “This is just sad.”

I frown. “Why? He bought her something.” Presents are sweet, not sad.

“He’s trying to win her back,” Sebas an says. “They had a ght, and he wants to see if his gi has cheered her up.”

“Whatever they’re gh ng about, she’ll forgive him over me,” I say with a nod.

Sebas an tosses my phone back. “No she won’t.”

“You can’t know that,” I say, defensive of a couple that I nd des ned and beau ful. They belong together the way books t in a library. When I needed help, they both dedicated hours to researching sex addic on. Connor even escorted Rose to therapists, and they pretended to be Lo and me to nd a perfect one. Who would do that, other than people who love me and people who love each other?

He stands. “She’s listened to my advice since we were children. She’ll realize that I’m right about Connor, and she’ll toss him aside like she has every short-term ing.”

I glare. “That’s her boyfriend.” Connor isn’t some ing. This is Rose’s

rst real rela onship. Sebas an should want her to be happy.

“And I don’t like him,” he says simply. Sebas an is egocentric, self-centered and self-absorbed. I suppose Connor has taken his place in Rose’s life. Sebas an no longer gets to a end all the lavish par es hosted by the Calloways and peers. She brings Connor instead.

“Their rela onship isn’t about what you want,” I say.

Sebas an snubs his cigare e on a magazine. “Rose is my best friend. I’m just saving her from the heartbreak.” He lights another. But his words sound incredibly fake. I don’t believe him one bit.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, crossing my arms. I want to warn Connor about Sebas an’s determina on to break them up. Hell, I’m going to tell Rose what a horrible friend she has. And she would believe me. I’m her sister.

“You can’t say a word,” he says ma er-of-factly.

“Yeah, I can.”

He shakes his head, taps some ash right on the carpet. “No you can’t.” He nods to the stack of papers on my textbook. “Rose will not condone your new studying tac cs. And Connor Cobalt would be even more displeased.” He sucks on the cigare e.

Oh…shit.

He’s trapped me so quickly. I slump back, winded as though he spun me through a washing machine.

I can’t tell my sister that her friend is planning on ruining her life. I should do the right thing and come clean, not be an awful human being.

But I need those tests.

And Rose can take care of herself. She’s the strongest girl I know.

But as Sebas an tosses that ballerina gurine in his hand, I wonder how she’s been blinded by someone like him for all these years. It can happen again.

My only hope lies in Connor.

He’ll have to foil Sebas an’s plans. He’ll have to prove to Rose that he’s the best man for her. I can’t warn him, but if I had to put money on a match between these two, I’d always bet on Connor Cobalt.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER EIGHT

LOREN HALE

AFTER SPENDING LUNCH with my brother, I end up in Rose Calloway’s Escalade. She conveniently showed up at the café. They acted all surprised about it—like she just happened to spot us, driving past Rocco’s Deli on her way home.

But I gured out quickly that Ryke called her to cart me to our house while he went back to Philly for college. Like I have to be equipped with a twenty-four-seven babysi er, like I can’t be trusted in a cab or for a brief stroll down the sidewalk alone.

I am the equivalent of a ninety-year-old lady needing a person as a crutch to cross the street.

It’s ridiculous.

And even if I do want to talk to Rose about my plan to earn some cash —I would never volunteer to be alone with the girl.

She hates me.

And Lily may not see it like that, but Rose and I have an understanding that we’re never going to be best friends. We withstand each other for Lily, and that has to be enough. Growing up, Lily would choose me—a boy— over Rose, her sister, and that type of jealousy accumulates over the years into something deep and raw.

No apology will ma er.

And I get it.

I would be resen ul too. I’ve never wanted Rose to cut me slack, which must be why I poke the coals, s rring the ames and provoking her temper. I deserve every cold look, every bi ng comment. I deserve that fucking pain.

I get it.

“You look loads of fun today, Rose,” I say as she clenches the steering wheel, spine straight and eyes focused on the street. I should be a good person and ask what’s bothering her, but I can’t form the words. Caring— that’s Ryke’s thing.

“Look in the mirror,” she says icily.

I do. Just to humor her. And what stares back at me is a scowl that could sha er the re ec on. Sharpened jaw and dark circles beneath my amber eyes, showing everyone how fucking red I actually am.

There’s no sleep for the wicked.

“I grow more beau ful with age,” I deadpan. “Must be the alcohol.”

“That’s not even a li le amusing.”

“Maybe because you lost your funny bone in your Gucci handbag.”

She glares and then drives up to our gate.

My phone buzzes, and I check the text with a palm over the screen so Rose doesn’t catch a glimpse.

Your girlfriend is a whore. – Unknown

I clench my teeth, my insides broiling. I want to nd this bastard more than anything, but I’m running out of op ons. I can’t knock on the door of every enemy that I remember. There are too many. And I’ve already poked one burning coal that may have been simmering down. Since I threatened him, Aaron Wells could be reinvigorated to come a er me even more—or he could be ready to bury his head in a hole. That’s the chance I took by visi ng his house and assuming he was the texter. (He s ll could be for all I know.)

But I’m not sure it’s wise to do the same thing to guys who haven’t spoken to me in years.

Tracking the texts—that’s the best shot I have, but I hate that it’s out of my hands.

I’m about to slip the phone back in my pocket, but another text chimes.

How many guys have fucked your girlfriend? Do you think the news

will tell us the number? – Unknown

“Everything okay?” Rose asks as the car slows down by the gate.

“Yeah,” I lie, typing quickly.

What do you want? I text back.

If it’s money, I’ll nd a way to pay him o . I can ask my father for a loan. I’ll double the amount that the tabloids are o ering him. I just don’t want Lily’s secret to reach her family’s ears. Once her parents learn that she’s a sex addict—I’m not sure Lily will be able to handle that shame. I don’t think she’s ready for it.

Sa sfac on – Unknown.

What the fuck does that mean?

Of what? I text.

My leg jostles as I wait for the reply. I realize that Rose has put her Escalade in park, wai ng by the gate’s keypad. She rolls down the window but watches me closely before she types in the code.

“Don’t,” I snap at her. I really don’t want to hear her ideas or thoughts on the ma er. She probably has tons of opinions about how I should be responding to this guy, and I’m posi ve that she would handle this di erently.

“You shouldn’t provoke him.”

“I wouldn’t.” Yeah, I kind of would. That’s what I do, even uninten onally.

Her lips purse. “Please. I know you.”

My phone vibrates on my leg.

I want the sa sfac on of hur ng you the way you’ve hurt me. –

Unknown

The bo om of my stomach drops. This isn’t about money. This is payback for whatever I did. I’m not a saint, and I wouldn’t begin to defend myself. I just never wanted to believe that Lily would be the one destroyed because of me.

So I text, Don’t go a er her. You can do whatever the hell you want to me. Just leave her out of this. And I hesitate before I press send.

I’m sniveling. I’m giving this guy exactly what he needs. Ammuni on to use against me. My father would never show him weakness like this. And what is the guy going to say in reply? Oh, I’m so sorry, Lo. I didn’t know she meant so much to you. No, he’s going to tell me to eat shit and watch my girlfriend burn.

This is not the way to win a ght.

So I delete that text and rewrite: I’ll nd you, you motherfucker. Don’t ever doubt that. Send.

I pocket my phone and meet Rose’s moody gaze.

“What?” I say.

“You did exactly what I told you not to do, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

She mu ers under her breath, shaking her head. And as she leans out of the window to type in the key code, her eyes fall to something down below. I’m glad for the distrac on. The phone feels less heavy in my jeans. I begin to shelve the texts in the back of my mind. On a normal day, I’d just go grab a bo le of Macallan and call it a night.

“Drop a bracelet?” I ask.

Her lips ghten.

“Worse than a bracelet? Damn, we’re at a DEFCON 1 then. Be er prepare for nuclear war.”

She actually looks impressed. “You know what DEFCON means?”

“Yeah. I also know how to spell ‘duh’ and ‘hurry the fuck up.’” I don’t add that X-Men uses a version of the term for an imminent mutant crisis. How I learned the facts shouldn’t ma er anyway.

She shoots me the signature Rose Calloway glare—the one that looks like she’s two seconds from ea ng your soul. I glower back, but internally, I want to run the fuck away. I don’t know how Connor smiles when she looks at him like that. She’s not blu ng. I bet she eats the hearts of every womanizer for the hell of it.

She ings her door open. “Wait here.”

Yeah, where else am I going to go?

She rummages out of sight for a minute, and curiosity gets the be er of me. I unbuckle and stretch over the driver’s seat, peering down through the window.

Rose squats on the ground next to purple hydrangeas, ivy spindling up the iron gate beside the robust owers. White petals u er by her side, but her back blocks whatever’s in front of her.

“What are you doing?” I ask like she’s gone insane. I think there may be a screw loose in all of the Calloway girls. Well, maybe except Daisy. She seems pre y normal.

“He can’t just send me things and expect to be forgiven,” she says in a hu . “It doesn’t work like that.” She grunts a li le, and more petals burst.

And then she stands and turns. She clutches the stems to what was a bouquet of white roses, but they look pathe c in her ght st. Every petal has been ripped apart and fallen to the grass below.

“You just mauled a plant,” I say atly. There’s something disturbing about this, and yet, I can’t help but laugh.

She glares harder. “Hold this.” She shoves a glass vase through the window.

“You’re not going to sha er it?” I ask. “All in the name of love? For your broken heart?”

“My heart isn’t broken.”

“I forgot, you’re made of steel. The bionic, unfeeling woman. Connor must love cuddling with your nuts and bolts.” I slip back to my seat.

She slams the car door, not even was ng another glare on me. She has yet to go for the worst look—the “I’m going to castrate you” one. I think she must be saving it for Connor. I am so glad I’m not him.

“What’d he do?” I ask. “Misspell your favorite word? Beat you in a game of Scrabble?”

She doesn’t say anything. She just retypes the code and puts the car in gear as the gate groans open. When the car rolls along the driveway towards the colonial house, it hits me.

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “You’re s ll angry at him because he gave me some beer months ago, when I wasn’t even planning on being sober?” I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s rela onship. It’s why Lily and I closed o to people—so no one else had to get hurt because of our mistakes.

She pulls into the garage and turns o the igni on. “You wouldn’t understand.” She’s about to climb out of the car, but I lean over her and

ick the lock, trapping her in the con nes of the Escalade.

Connor told me not to defend him. Right a er they had that ght in our living room, he took me aside and said to stay out of it. But I can’t let him be a acked for this. He was just being a friend in a me when I wouldn’t let anyone in my life.

“Give the guy a break,” I say. “He bends over backwards for you.”

Rose stares at me for a long moment, bi ng her gums, it seems. And then she tries to unlock the car again, but I beat her to the bu on, icking it faster than she does.

“Loren,” she warns.

“Just say it,” I retort. “Say what you mean.” She doesn’t think I can handle it, but I can.

“You don’t understand,” she snaps. “Connor knew you were addicted, and he handed you beer. And you think that’s okay. You’re si ng there, telling me that it’s okay when it’s not. Do you see how wrong that is?”

“Rose, he didn’t do anything wrong.” I grimace as soon as I hear myself. And I understand immediately why Connor told me not to say a word in his defense. Because I am making a great case why he shouldn’t have given me an ounce of liquor. I’m the alcoholic—the one who believed I could live a life drinking every minute of every fucking day. Vouching for Connor makes him look guilty. And maybe he is to some extent.

“What he did was awful,” she says, “and I don’t care if it was just a means to be your friend.”

I run a shaky hand through my hair, and when I glance back at her, she pales a li le. “No, I’m ne,” I say. “Honestly, I’m not going to go race to a liquor store a er this conversa on, okay?”

She nods, s and unmoving.

“Rose,” I say. “I’m not trying to defend the guy, but…” This is hard for me to say. I even clear my throat, the words lodging for a second. “…I don’t know if I would be right here if he didn’t nd a way to enter my life and Lily’s. He was the rst nonjudgmental person that I could withstand to be around. He never looked at me like I was fucked up, even if he was probably thinking it. I liked having him as a friend. I s ll do.”

I hand her the vase, and she no longer looks willing to chuck it at the wall.

“He’s human,” I remind her. “He’s not perfect. No one is.”

Her lips twitch. “Wise words from Loren Hale. You must have plagiarized a fortune cookie.”

I let out a weak laugh, actually smiling at that one. She’s good.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER NINE

LOREN HALE

I UNLOCK THE CAR. From the back garage door, we enter the house, walking into the granite kitchen.

Lily must have heard the garage because she breezes through the archway with a zipped backpack. She sets it on a chair and waits pa ently for me to approach her by the bar stool. She’s doing well, and then I no ce the way she ddles with her ngers, the way she presses her thighs ghtly together.

I slide my arms around her shoulders. She rests her cheek to my chest, but her body doesn’t sag in relief. No, it ghtens in eagerness. Lily doesn’t do hugs. She fucks un l she passes out.

And I so badly want to x her, but I can only help. The real mending— that has to be her job, her ght, her ba le. I can’t win this one for her— just like she can’t defeat my demons.

Shoes tap along the hardwood, and I expect to see Connor Cobalt cres ng the archway. Instead, I’m met with Sebas an Ross.

He’s s ll here a er tutoring Lil?

I internally groan.

His self-con dent swagger rubs me wrong. Always has. He wears a smug grin ninety-nine percent of the me, and he makes certain he knows what’s going on in everyone’s life. Sebas an and I have never seen eye to eye. Maybe because I say more mean comments to Rose than nice ones. He thinks I’m an asshole.

I am.

And he has full right to dislike me. I’ll give him that.

I guide Lily over to a small breakfast table and sit on the chair, bringing her on my lap. She opens her mouth, probably about to ask when we’re going to have sex, but she shuts her lips and blushes.

Before rehab, this is when I’d tease her. Run my hand down her thigh and watch her breath catch. It takes every ounce of strength to shake my head. Her eyes widen in slight horror, but I press a kiss to her temple.

I want to distract her from sex, so I ask, “Anything good on TV?”

“I taped Earth’s Migh est Heroes while you were in rehab,” she says so ly. “It’s pre y good, but they make Captain America look kinda weak.”

I smile. “Spoiler alert?”

“No, he wimps out early on.” She seems to relax, which makes me relax.

“How was the mee ng?” Sebas an asks Rose, a lit cigare e burning between two ngers.

“The mee ng was ne,” she says. “The menswear collec on just shipped, so everyone was excited.” When she turns to him, she spots the cigare e between his ngers, her eyes narrowing. With Connor’s vase s ll clenched in her hand, she plucks the cigare e from Sebas an. “Outside only.” She snu s it in the sink and makes no other comment about it.

He gets away with more shit than any other guy in Rose’s life.

Lily resituates herself on my lap, straddling me on the chair all of a sudden. Fuck.

It’s the middle of the day. We shouldn’t have sex. It’s not considered the norm. I remind myself of all the reasons why this can’t happen. Not to men on Rose and Sebas an are halfway across the kitchen from us.

“How’s tutoring going?” Rose turns to Lily at this. She’s trying to delay what I think is the inevitable—my cock in Lily, her body and mind appeased, coming with a blissful high.

Lily points to her chest, ushed. “Oh, me?”

Rose gives her a look—one that tells her to relocate her common sense. Lily tucks her hair behind her ear and sits up a li le from my chest. Progress, yes. But I can’t move my hands from her thighs. I’m afraid she’ll freak out by the lack of touch.

“I know why people call the class Stats and not Stat now.” She ashes a strained smile, hoping that’s enough for Rose.

“She’s doing fairly well,” Sebas an says nonchalantly. But his gaze descends to the vase between Rose’s ngers. He grabs the clear glass. “Is this crystal?”

“Yes,” Rose says redly. She pulls her glossy brown hair into a sleek pony.

Sebas an pauses for a second, and I realize Lily is entrapped with the scene, watching with more interest than she normally would have.

I squeeze her leg and lean forward to whisper in her ear, “What’s going on?”

But Sebas an speaks, cu ng o any chance for Lily to reply. “Where are the owers?”

“Dead.”

Sebas an opens a cupboard and slides out the trash.

“What are you doing?” Rose asks, her pitch spiking.

“He really expects to win you back with owers. Come on, Rose.” Huh, I’m surprised Rose felt comfortable enough to share in mate details of her

ght with Sebas an. I just didn’t think she opened up her frigid gates to

anyone.

Rose stares ques oningly at the vase in Sebas an’s hand, considering trashing Connor’s present.

Oh fuck that. “It’s crystal,” I remind her.

“Yeah,” Lily adds.

Sebas an looks unperturbed by the voices of dissent and rests an elbow on the counter. He passes the vase to Rose, but she hesitates by the trash bin.

“It’s Lalique,” she says under her breath, her ngers running over the smooth face. The vase is cut like a square, and the bo om has an intricate knot design.

“What does that mean?” Lily asks.

“He has good taste,” Rose says.

Sebas an makes a show of rolling his eyes.

Rose clutches the vase to her chest. “It’s my favorite brand.”

Only Rose would have a favorite kind of crystal at twenty-two. But more than that, Connor knew exactly what she liked. That detail has to count for something. I’m not even that percep ve.

Sebas an taps the counter, watching Rose closely. “You can keep it,” he says, “but what kind of message does that really send? Every ght, he’ll try to buy you back. Personally I’d be ne with that type of rela onship. I have a pair of a crocodile leather shoes from Max in my closet, but I know you, Rose. A er the h piece of jewelry, you’re going to be sick of him.”

Rose looks con icted.

“Connor is trying to say he’s sorry,” Lily pipes in.

Sebas an looks bothered by Lily’s interjec on. He lts his head, his eyes ickering to her backpack. I’m missing something important. It doesn’t take a genius like Connor to gure that one out.

Lily hesitates, and she recoils into my chest. I wrap my arms around her and assault Sebas an with my glower. That’s what life in the rst-class world is—a series of glares, half-smiles and scowls. Each one is lethal, each one like a fucking razor. And I’ve learned all of them from the best. Not Rose Calloway. My father could destroy her with his sharp ‘go-the-fuck-to-hell’ stare.

He’s even almost destroyed me with it.

Rose sets the vase on the counter by the co ee pot, uncertain. “I have a box I need to grab from the car. I’ll be right back.” Partly, I think she’s leaving to hide how ustered she’s become. When she exits out the backdoor, Sebas an straightens up and grabs the vase o the counter.

Lily’s spine goes erect like a surprised cat. “What are you doing?”

“What Rose can’t. She’ll thank me later.” He chucks the vase in the trash bin.

“No!” Lily springs from my lap. I follow her, only because I don’t like that look in Sebas an’s eye. It’s the kind that I’ve seen from too many rich kids—the one where they think they’re invincible. That no one can touch them.

I’ve probably worn it on occasion.

Sebas an kicks the cupboard closed and extends his arms across the counter behind him, blocking Lily from the bin. She squats to go through his legs to reach it, but Sebas an holds his foot out. “Remember what’s at stake, Li le Calloway,” he says casually, a voice so smooth that I want to tear it to shreds. Mine is nothing like that. I’m all edged, all something harsh and severe.

Lily freezes and slowly rises. I place my hands on her shoulders, confused as ever.

“Are you blackmailing her?” I ask.

Lily shakes her head rst. “It’s okay,” she says to me. She places her palms on my chest and begins to push me away from the counters and towards the breakfast table again. It’s not okay. What the fuck is going on?!

The door opens. Rose enters with a paisley box labeled Spring/Summer Men’s Collec on.

“So you’re really doing menswear?” Lily asks, her hand slipping in mine. She squeezes once, a sign that she’ll explain the Sebas an stu later. I have to trust her.

Rose nods and pulls out a blue men’s sports coat and passes it to Sebas an.

“I like the pocket,” he says and inspects the lining. “I’m glad you went with this print.”

“Me too. The mini-checkers were too much.” She turns to Lily. “Sebas an’s been helping me with the collec on.”

Lily told me Rose has been nervous about branching out since Calloway Couture has been strictly for women only.

“I know this is probably a busy me,” Rose says to Lily, taking the coat from Sebas an and folding it precisely, “but I could use your help at the o ce. Would you mind working more hours?”

Since my stay at rehab, Lily has occupied her me as Rose’s assistant, even if two other girls work at Calloway Couture for social media, online sales and whatever the hell Rose needs them for. Lily told me that she’s Rose’s numero uno bitch—and she said it all with a ourish of pride, which I found pre y adorable.

“Sure,” Lily agrees with a solid nod. But she grips my hand ghter, and then she blurts out, “But what about the male models?” And then her eyes dart to Sebas an and she pales, forge ng his presence.

“Oh yes,” Sebas an says, “they’re gorgeous. Maybe Rose can nd you someone be er to date than that one over there.” He points at me.

“And maybe she’ll nd someone to replace you.” I mockingly pause. “Oh wait, she already has.” Where’s Connor Cobalt when you fucking need him?

The corner of Sebas an’s mouth cs. Good.

Rose sets the sport’s coat back in the box. “Sebas an, I think it’s me for you to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” He kisses her cheek, and then he waves to Lily. “Study hard.”

“I will,” she says tensely.

With this, he departs, and when the door slams, Rose sets her hands on her hips and faces Lily. “I won’t ever schedule the male models for

ngs when you’re in the o ce, I promise.”

“I’m just scared,” Lily admits. She can’t even look at me.

I try to hold back a cringe. I should have more faith in her—that she won’t cheat on me, but I spent years hearing her fuck other guys through the walls. Being monogamous isn’t natural for her, and I’m honestly shocked she’s made it this long with just me. I wait for the day when I’m not enough, especially now that I can’t feed into her desires. I can’t give her what she can so easily receive from some other douchebag.

“I’m not going to put you in that posi on,” Rose tells her. “I promise.”

And if my plan works, then Lily shouldn’t be worried at all. But right as I muster the courage to ask Rose, the door opens and we all s en.

Sebas an is back.

But the shoes on the hardwood sound di erent, more con dent, faster and determined.

Connor strolls through the archway with a stack of French bread pizzas. He slides them on the counter just as the tension eases. Well, technically only Lily and I relax. Rose’s shoulders lock like she’s preparing to crush someone underneath her heel. “Who did you think I was?” he asks us. He must no ce the shi in the room.

“Sebas an,” Lily says.

“We were talking about sex,” I clarify.

He nods, understanding now. “How’d the tutoring go?” he asks, about to approach Rose and kiss her, but she stares at the wall, not at him. Come on, Rose, let the guy in.

Connor only studies her, more determined to win her a ec ons. He leans against the counter and then gives Lily his full a en on.

“It was ne. I think Sebas an is going to help a lot.”

Really? I always claimed I’d switch from whiskey to bleach if I had to talk to him for longer than ten minutes. Obviously, there’s something going on between Sebas an and Lily, but I don’t want to bring it up now.

“That’s good,” Connor says. “I’m sorry I can’t tutor you. If I had more

me this semester, you know I would.”

“It’s ne, really.” She keeps saying that, and I think we all know it’s not

ne.

Connor ips open one of the boxes, and Rose peers over his shoulder, risking the touch of his arm.

“Ar choke and mushrooms?” she asks.

He pulls out the second box and faces her. But he holds onto the pizza. “And feta.”

Lily mouths to me, her favorite.

He’s smooth. And Lily is grinning so hard, watching her sister and Connor reunite. Her whole face glows. Fuck it. I slide my arms around her waist, and I draw her to my chest, her warm body makes my cock throb. She lets out an audible sigh, but Connor and Rose are lost in their own intellectual world.

Rose waits for Connor to pass the box, but he’s not going to let her have the pizza so easily. I some mes forget that he’s willing to test her as much as she does him.

“You broke the vase, didn’t you?” He must have seen the crumpled white roses by the gate. If he’s hurt by the fact, I can’t tell. Rose and other genius-types must be the only ones able to read him.

“What? No, I…” She glances over her shoulder by the sink—where she had previously set the vase. But it’s no longer there thanks to her “best” friend. Her gaze dri s to the cupboard with the sliding trash bin.

Connor follows her eyes, and he opens the cupboard and li s out the expensive crystal, a ssure running through the side. Cracked, broken. He sets it by the sink and then passes her the pizza.

“I didn’t do that,” Rose immediately says. Her eyes light with re. “I’m going to kill him.” I’ve heard her say that about Sebas an too many mes to take the threat seriously.

“Sebas an?” Connor wonders.

Rose nods tersely. She puts the pizza down, no longer interested in ea ng, and she inspects the vase with delicate hands. Her shoulders drop. He comes behind her and whispers in her ear. When his voice grows, I catch the syllables, but I don’t understand the words.

He’s speaking to her in French.

She answers back in the foreign language, uent. He kisses her head, and then she spins around and kisses his lips, standing on the ps of her toes.

Lily turns to face me at this, and her eyes grow wide and eager. I want to, Lil. God, do I want to. Now’s the best me to talk to Rose. Even if it’ll break her moment with her boyfriend, it’ll save me from rejec ng Lily again.

“Rose,” I say.

She drops to her feet, but Conner keeps his hand tangled in her hair, intoxicated by Rose’s commanding movements. She possesses him, but he’s equally as possessive of her, which I s ll nd strange. I thought for sure Rose would devour any man she touched, but they have this symbio c rela onship instead of the parasi c one I share with Lily.

“Yes?” she asks.

My throat swells at the thought of asking her for help. Even as the words rest on my tongue, saying them is so fucking hard. So I turn to Connor. “Have you heard anything from the private inves gator?”

“He’s working on tracing the messages. We’ll see if we can nd any leads.” A er the wave of texts in the car, that’s not exactly the news I wanted to hear.

“Lo,” Rose snaps. Her hand ies back to her hip. She could tell I was dodging. “Spill.”

I inhale. “As you know…” I rub the back of my neck, heat ushing my body all of a sudden. I’m not used to that. “…I don’t have a college degree, so ge ng a job that pays be er than minimum wage is going to be a challenge.”

The silence lingers, wai ng for me to con nue, three sets of eyes boring into me in curiosity and hesita on. They think I’m on the verge of giving up, of throwing my hands in the air and saying I can’t do hard, physical labor. I can’t ip burgers. I can’t fucking be a normal lower-class guy who has to work for his money. I’ve never had to do that, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try. They think less of me, and I haven’t given them reason to believe otherwise.

“I’d have no problem ipping burgers,” I explain, “but I owe Ryke forty grand for rehab that I’d like to pay him in a reasonable amount of me… plus, you know, rent.” I pause again, half expec ng Rose to bail me out and say, you don’t have to pay rent, Lo, you’re prac cally family. But I forget who she is for a brief second. Maybe her li le meltdown over a vase tricked me, but she stands resolute, strong, unwilling to let me take the easy road.

Good.

S ll, I glare. Habit. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” I say.

She smiles icily. “Last year in the Cayman Islands, you said that not even the abominable snowman would want to fuck me.”

Lily gasps, “You did not.”

“I did.”

She punches my arm. I mock wince. Yeah, I deserved that.

Connor stays completely impassive. But he holds Rose closer, as though silently saying I’m wrong. Clearly guys with insanely high IQs want to fuck her.

I let out a deep breath. Here it goes. “I’ve already been scouted by modeling agencies before,” I explain. “You’d be an idiot not to use me in your menswear campaign.” Way to go, Loren. Call her an idiot. That’s de nitely the way to land a job. Jesus Christ, no wonder you’ve never had one.

“I remember that,” Rose says s y.

“How come you’ve never modeled if you were scouted?” Connor asks.

“I may have walked into the interview drinking straight from a bo le of Jack Daniel’s.” I was fucking with the agency, was ng peoples’ me and mine. I didn’t really want to model. I s ll don’t, but it’ll be quick money. And this is a chance for me to redo my past mistakes. I can make things right.

Connor lets out a long whistle. “Impressive.”

“I think so too.”

Rose looks ready to reignite their old argument, but Connor leans in and whispers into her ear again. French. Can’t understand a fucking word. She eases considerably.

“I need a translator,” Lily whispers to me.

“Or an interpreter.” Preferably not a male interpreter. I can just picture Lily ge ng aroused and ushed from some French guy. Even that proposed fantasy makes me cringe. Jealousy is the one thing I don’t ever want to tear us apart. But it’s there. Festering.

Rose nally pins her eyes back on me. “Modeling is di cult,” she says, her voice much so er. “It’s not just about having a good body or a pre y face. Ask Daisy.”

“I know,” I say. “But Rose, this isn’t going to be a career for me. I just need to make enough money to pay back my debts and get on my own two feet. That’s it.” I glance at Lily for a second. “And you won’t have to mess up your schedule for Lil. I’ll be there while the other models are. It’ll be be er.”

Lily holds onto the waistband of my jeans, and she says, “And what are you going to do a er modeling?”

I have no idea. The fog of my future is too thick to clear. “One step at a

me,” I say. She nods, understanding.

Rose mulls over my proposi on for a minute. And then she says, “Fine.”

I break into a full grin.

And she adds, “But just so we have things clear, I’m doing this out of pity.”

My smile vanishes. “You could have stopped at ne.”

It’s her turn to grin. “I know.”

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TEN

LILY CALLOWAY

TWO DAYS PASS and I s ll haven’t had sex. And on top of that, I welched on telling Lo about the old tests. But I plan to. I just need to… phrase it correctly so he joins my immoral side of things. And Connor has yet to nd any evidence about the so-called blackmailer (or whatever he is —considering he s ll hasn’t asked for anything in return).

“What about Patrick Bomer?” I sit with my legs crossed on the bed, an old navy-blue Dalton Academy yearbook on my lap. Big black circles outline certain faces and on others I’ve drawn X’s…and mustaches.

I raise my head and catch Lo’s frown through the circular mirror mounted above our dresser. He spent a solid twenty minutes dressing this morning and another ten minutes on his hair. It’s his rst job at Calloway Couture. Hell, it’s his rst job ever, and he’s freaking out about it.

“Why would Patrick hate me?” he asks, disheveling the thicker pieces of his hair on purpose.

“You won rst place in our art class’s end-of-the-year projects.”

Lo took a ve minute video of a plas c bag blowing in the wind, which was beyond boring and beyond unoriginal, seeing as how American Beauty did it rst.

He turns to look at me. “What? That’s not my fault. My project was damn good.”

“The en re class fell asleep,” I remind him. And Patrick made a bronze sculpture of Apollo, but it was hardly appreciated by Mr. Adams.

“So he should be pissed at the teacher, not me.”

I don’t refute because he’s right. Teachers gave Lo special treatment, even so much as awarding his crappy video the highest prize because he’s a Hale. Because his father is a mul -billionaire with connec ons so intricate that a spider would be jealous of the web Jonathan Hale weaves.

I glance at my computer screen on the bed. “Maybe he’s not angry anymore,” I add. “He’s at Carnegie Mellon for art now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Facebook.”

Lo groans. “Please tell me you didn’t sign up.” We’ve had an an -social media rule since high school. We like privacy too much to waste it away on cyberspace.

“I didn’t. I signed you up.”

His eyes darken.

“The way I see it,” I say quickly, “is that if someone hates you, they’ll probably start slandering you on here.” I point to the screen. “It’s like a y trap for suspects.”

Surprisingly, he risks his wrinkle-free, steam-pressed khakis to sit down on the bed beside me. Our canopy net tangles in his leg, and he curses under his breath, swa ng the fabric away. “I swear I’m going to cut this stupid thing down.”

“I like it.” Even if I got caught in the net like a praying man s last night. I roll some mes when I sleep. It happens.

“We’re not in a jungle trying to ward away bugs.”

“Rose designed the room,” I remind him. She decorated it while Lo was away at rehab. “She’ll be hurt if I change it because of you.”

“Even be er,” he says. I doubt he believes that.

“I’m going to forget what you just said,” I mu er and swivel the computer screen to him.

Lo gapes. “You had to use that photo as my pro le picture?”

I break into a wide smile, and I can’t stop staring at the photo. He’s shirtless except for a pair of Spider-Man pajama pants. He looks sexy and cool.

The website consumes his a en on, and he scrolls through the pro les of old students. “Married, married, pregnant, dead, engaged, pregnant, married,” he lists. “Did anyone stay in their twen es a er high school or did everyone just pass GO to collect a 401k and diapers?”

“Maybe they’re in love,” I defend.

“We’re in love. You don’t see us ge ng married or having babies.”

I frown, not sure why this hurts me a li le. Marriage isn’t really a plan of mine, at least not un l I’m older and move past this awkward, confusing stage of life. But the way Lo said those words—well, they make marriage seem nonexistent. Like instead of a maybe, he’s saying never.

“You don’t want to get married?” I ask so ly. I can barely meet his gaze. I’m twenty, just stepping out of my teens. I shouldn’t worry about marriage and babies, especially not when we’re struggling being healthy ourselves.

He hesitates. “I don’t know. I’m not closing that door. I just can’t think about it.” He pauses. “Do you…think about it?” He frowns deeply, worried that we’re not on the same track. We usually are, and it’s kind of terrifying to see him veer o without me.

“Not a lot,” I say. “Before I was with you, I never thought I’d be married.” I slept with random guys. I thought monogamy wasn’t a lifestyle I could ever conform to. Now that I’m star ng to nd a good groove, I’m beginning to fantasize about normality.

“But now you do?” he asks.

I shrug. “I guess but de nitely not any me soon. I want to get through the terrible twen es rst.” I wave my hand. “Let’s not talk about marriage or having babies. It’s stupid anyway. We have more important things to deal with.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but his face contorts more, even graver than before. “You want kids?”

Oh…I can tell just by the way he says it that he doesn’t want them. A lump rises to my throat, and I feel like this is going to be a trick ques on. I look over my shoulder for the right answer but it’s not concealed there. “Umm…” I mumble. “I don’t know.”

He blinks, watching me as I watch him. The answers seem to spill out of our silence.

“Maybe,” I blurt out, not able to hold back any longer. “When I’m older but not too old, I guess. My eggs are on a clock.” I nod and then grimace. “I mean, you know…” I am two seconds from burrowing underneath the comforter and never coming out. Hide, Lily, hide! My face ames. I really wish my feelings weren’t so visible.

“Lil,” Lo breathes, his eyes so ening considerably. I am one of those sea vessels wobbling in the ocean before they’re hit by a wave. “You…and me…” Here it is. “We probably shouldn’t have children.”

I stare blankly at the black and white comforter, gathering my thoughts. I never allowed myself to dream that far ahead, to construct a reality where Lo and I start a family together. Maybe because deep in my heart, I knew it doesn’t exist.

His words paint the blackness of my future into a clearer picture. And it’s an image I want to return to the store. A life where we don’t have kids. Where our family consists of me and him. And that’s it.

I understand where he’s coming from. We’re both addicts, and even if we could raise a kid, alcoholism is s ll hereditary. Lo wouldn’t wish his troubles on anyone, especially his own child.

“I know,” I say with a sadder nod. “I just don’t want to think about it.”

He distracts my sullen mood by poin ng at a picture in the yearbook. “You gave Jacqueline Kinney a mustache. That’s just mean.”

My lips slowly rise, and I glance at his head. His hair s cks up in di erent direc ons. And I’m sure he thinks that’s what supermodel hair looks like, but Rose will not be pleased.

I scoot over, pushing the laptop away, and I run my ngers through his locks, combing his thick brown hair on top. He jerks back almost instantly.

“I spent valuable me on this.” He clutches my wrist.

“I think all that me was spent ogling yourself,” I refute. “Let me x it.” But my gaze dri s from his hair, landing on his pink lips that hover so very close to mine. I imagine how they’ll feel on my so ones. And I ache to press up against them.

His lips begin to move, but I don’t hear the words from them. I’m trans xed, and when they go s ll, a magne c hold propels me to his mouth.

I touch his lips with mine, and he kisses back at rst, so and sweet. A raspy moan ckles my throat, and I crawl on his waist, straddling him, ready for something more. I just need him… I knead my ngers through his hair, and I squeeze my thighs.

He pulls back.

No. I breathe heavily like I’m currently running a half-marathon. I’m just star ng to race up that steep incline, and he stopped me midway.

“Lily…”

My hands dip below his shirt, and I trace the ridges in his abs, gliding each nger along his bare chest. I unconsciously dig my pelvis, rocking a li le, needing him more and more.

A groan escapes his lips this me, and he has to grab my wrists.

I don’t want to stop. It feels like I haven’t touched him in so long. It feels so unbearable. I remember the exhilara on and burst of coming. I want that sensa on to ripple through me. I want my body to vibrate un l I can’t see straight. I miss that so very much.

But when I meet his hard eyes, I see the answer. No. No. No. But I want to hear yes just once. I want to sigh in relief with the word.

“I haven’t had sex in days,” I say like it’s an accomplishment. “I thought I get rewarded for good behavior.”

His mouth curves into a genuine smile. I’ve won, I think. This is it. I

ghten my legs around his waist again, his hardness driving me to new

levels of eagerness.

“Whoa,” he protests, li ing me up underneath my arms. He sets me on his knees. No fun. “How about I make a deal with you?”

“I like deals,” I say, my gaze dri ing to his cock.

“Eyes on me, Lil.”

I try. I’m trying. I am. “But aren’t deals against the rules?”

“Not this one.”

Now I’m curious. He rubs my leg, semi-splayed on his lap. I guess this is be er than being chucked o him en rely. The movement grabs my a en on, and I desperately wish his ngers would rise higher, to the spot that throbs so desperately for his touch.

“You can choose one thing to do right now. I can kiss you un l you’re breathless.” He leans forward and places a small, ee ng kiss on my lips before his breath ckles my ear. “Or I can put my ngers inside of you and make you feel full.” Yes. “Or…” There’s another op on? Oh jeez. I scoot forward, even against his wishes, and I grip his T-shirt between my ngers. I can prac cally feel him pulsing beneath me. Or maybe that’s just my need growing out of control. “…I can run my hand over your pants and make you come.” Double yes. “But…”

My shoulders drop at the realiza on that there’s a s pula on. I guess that’s why it’s called a deal and not a free-for-all…or a free-for-Lily. “I don’t like buts…” I trail o because I realize I do like bu s, only the round kind.

“You’re turning red,” Lo notes. “Are you thinking about my ass?”

I drink in his rich amber eyes. “More like my ass and your—”

He covers my mouth with his hand and whispers in my ear again, “My cock isn’t going anywhere near your ass, Lily Calloway, but I’d be glad to put it somewhere else.” He whispers a couple places, and I realize that I’ve latched onto his lap like a monkey, clinging so hard that I’m already wet and ready.

“But?” I say, reminding him that there was a big fat roadblock that he constructed.

“You can only pick one op on. Or you can forgo all of them and choose to wait un l tonight, and we’ll have sex. It’s up to you.” All I hear is we’ll have sex. But I have to wait for it. And right now, wai ng eight minutes is torture that I don’t want to endure. How can I wait eight hours?

“I don’t like this deal.”

“Neither do I, but we have to prac ce self-control. Both of us.” Oh.

I mull the op ons and realize that if I choose something right now, he won’t be receiving any sort of pleasure. “I choose head. To give you head, I mean,” I say one of the most unladylike phrases I’ve ever used, but the last thing I care about right now is sophis ca on. And for a brief moment, I wonder how Connor and Rose are in bed—do they spout o anatomical parts or speak in beau ful prose? I’d ask Rose, but she’s private about that stu . And I’m pre y sure her sex life is nonexistent since she has in macy issues. And I hope she would tell me if she lost her virginity.

“Leave my dick out of this,” Lo says, equally classy.

“Why?” I frown and then my eyes widen. “Are blow jobs on the blacklist?” We s ll haven’t a ended therapy together, but I imagine I’ll be begging my therapist for the details of that list next me I see her.

He covers my mouth again. “Stop…talking,” he says sternly. He shi s a li le underneath me, and I’m about to glance down, but he li s my chin before I catch a glimpse of his hardness.

Obviously I’m not the only one with raging hormones. I could smile, but I also feel guilty that he has to su er because of my addic on.

My eyes icker to his lips, and there’s a part of me that wants to give in and choose kissing. But kissing always leads to more with me, and being denied that will be harder than not having Lo at all.

I grab his wrist and pull his hand from my mouth. He gives me a warning look to not bring up his body parts. But that’s precisely the reason why I’m choosing tonight, the only op on that o ers him any sort of pleasure too.

“We can wait,” I say so ly and slowly. Begrudgingly, I slide o his lap and the bed. I ip my laptop closed and go to straighten out my shirt in front of the mirror. The worst part—I won’t be able to release my pent-up frustra on right now. The pulsing between my legs will have to stay. Because I’ve commi ed to no self-love. Once I start down that road, there’s no stopping. I’ll turn back into a compulsive beast, and I don’t want Lo to see me like that.

“Are you sure?” Lo calls from the bed.

He’s as surprised as me. Normally I’d take one of the immediate gra ca ons, even if it was ee ng. I’ll regret my decision in a couple of

hours, but at least I’m making the smarter choice now.

I meet his eyes, and I swear they lighten, like he’s proud of me.

“Posi ve.”

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

IN RETROSPECT, I should have gone for the fondling over the clothes bit. I would have come and all would be well. Even a er a shower, I sit behind my desk at the Calloway Couture o ces with tension so crazy that I re exively rub my lower half against my chair. My face ames when I catch myself, and I look up, wondering if Trish and Ka e no ce.

But both blondes type away behind their white desks, the workplace more like a lo , no cubicles. Racks of clothes shield the walls. Rose has a glass o ce that overlooks the rest of us, and right now, I miss her constant peeks across the room, her reprimanding gaze dar ng from her computer screen to my desk.

Her chair is empty, and I keep eyeing her o ce, wan ng her to remind me why I shouldn’t sneak into the bathroom and do something naughty and just plain wrong.

But it will feel so good.

I’m two seconds from smacking my forehead on the desk. But I focus on my computer and the Excel spreadsheet. I try not to picture a naked Lo, which has already popped in my head three mes. I fantasize about him too much, but I am thankful that no other guys in ltrate my thoughts. Missing him for three months has temporarily cured me. It was like my brain could only process one image: Loren Hale. All day, every day.

But by being alone, I can’t stop the sinful images from seeping right on in.

They begin with Lo walking towards me, s ll in the o ce. He shoves everything o my white desk and li s me up roughly, none of his movements so and slow. And in this par cular fantasy, I’m wearing a dress.

And all he needs to do is shi my pan es a li le, and then he yanks my legs so they wrap ght around him, my back cool against the desk. And everything thrums so much. He tears down the top of my dress, his lips

nding my breast, sucking, and then he thrusts…

Okay, I need to stop.

I squirm in my seat, the spot between my legs now pulsing, for real. There’s no doubt about it.

Maybe I can just log onto a porn site and once I stare at the pictures, all will be good. I’ll scroll through Tumblr’s naughty photos, and no one will know. I’ll hit that high I crave, and it will be okay again.

It’s an itch, a subconscious pulse. This me, I do slam my forehead down onto the keyboard, pounding my frustra on un l my computer lets out a screech. Shit.

I roll back a li le, exhale deeply. And then a doorbell buzzes. Trish stands, her suede gray boo es making the short trek to the door.

Rose is probably here. My anxiety starts to lessen. Her presence will surely keep me in line. I zone in on the Excel spreadsheet that details the collec on’s current inventory. We have to ship a few more pieces to H&M because I messed up the order. I accidentally put a maxi-dress in the spring collec on, and Rose has been trimming most of her clothes because they’re more a ering on the everyday girl.

My phone pings just as Trish opens the door. I check the text.

Whore – Unknown.

My heart explodes.

He has my number. He’s no longer going through Lo. What if it’s not the same person who texted him? I never thought it was possible that there could be mul ple people involved in the text-threats.

I quickly log into the search engine and type my name, wondering if my secret has already been spilled. My ngers tremble as I scroll through a list of Lily Calloways. Most ar cles about me discuss my involvement with Fizzle. Some even call me a “soda heiress” which is a cooler tle than I think I deserve. No trashy headlines pop up. Nothing about sex addic on.

I let out a short breath of relief, even if the word “whore” is s ll on my cellphone. Replying back may just fuel him to do something dras c—like call the tabloids—so I abandon the pursuit.

“Come on in,” Trish says. “Just stand along the back wall by the window. It’s nted, so you don’t need to worry. I’m going to bring out the men’s clothes from our backroom. Help yourself to co ee and water on the table.”

What? I thought the male models were coming later today. Like in two hours. I check my clock on my phone. Oh… me really does y when you’re stuck inside your head.

The guys le in. One by one. Each of them as striking as the next. It’s hard not to stare since that’s what they’re here for. I try to remember Daisy. I wouldn’t want anyone to gawk at my sister like I’m doing to these guys, but yet, I can’t stop.

I count o the models in my head. One, two, three… and when I reach nine, the door closes. Wait. Where’s Lo? And Rose? Rose and Lo. I need both of them here. And Lo should be the tenth model. Rose was going to drive him to the o ce since she had to run a few errands and would be here during the ng. But yet, she’s not here.

Trish departs to the backroom, and Ka e stands, ushering the guys towards my desk where they’ll linger. I sit by the window with a view of the city, and to the right of me is a table with freshly baked mu ns, co ee and bo les of Evian.

I freak out.

I don’t know what else to call it. Just as Ka e begins to look in my direc on, I act as though I dropped a pen, and I squat to pick it up. Then I scu le underneath my desk, hiding, and I quickly dial Lo’s number. Thankfully no one can see me, but I am sure they’re all wondering where the loony assistant disappeared to.

Maybe they’ll think I just teleported. I try to convince myself of the ridiculous and the impossible no on. But at least I can’t see them. Their deep voices and low laughter make me more paranoid than aroused. I just don’t want to stare at them for too long and begin to fantasize. Because some mes I’ll try to turn those fantasies into reali es. And I will not cheat on Loren Hale.

Not for anything.

I press my phone to my ear, the ringing incessant. “Pick up, pick up,” I mu er under my breath. I hug my knees to my chest, prac cally in a scared, li le ball.

“Hey, it’s Lo.”

“Lo—”

“Leave a message, and I may get around to calling you back. But really, you should just call me again. And if it’s not important, then don’t bother calling at all.” BEEP.

“I hate that you haven’t changed your stupid answering machine,” I whisper angrily. “It tricks me every single me. And it’s not nice.”

A pair of jeans land near my desk. I jump, my eyes wide. They’re undressed. One of them is without pants. Oh. My. God…

I shut o the phone and redial. Answering machine. I swallow hard and say under my breath, “Um, Lo, where are you? Bye.” I hang up quickly, and I dial my sensible sister. The line rings twice before she answers.

“Are you okay?” Rose asks.

“Why is Lo not answering?” I wonder, bi ng my nails.

“He le his phone at the house.” Her voice mu es as she pulls the receiver from her lips. “Okay, okay, Lo, I understand. Calm down.” She hu s and then says louder, “Are the models already there?”

“Yep,” I say, catching a glimpse of a pair of bare ankles and legs—which means that he can see me curled up here. But I don’t dare move. “All nine Captain Americas have reported for duty. Where are you?” It’s not like Rose to be late.

“Stuck in tra c,” Rose tells me. “I told Connor I would pick up his dry cleaning, and there was a long line.”

“You could have told Harold to do it,” I say so ly. The bare ankles are moving closer! I shut my eyes. Go away. Go away.

“I’d rather not use our mother’s butler, thank you.” Yes, I suppose that comes with some sort of s pula on. Like spending an extra couple of dinners in Villanova, and Rose already commits to Sunday get-togethers.

“Mmm-hmm.” The legs pause, too close now.

“Lily…” Rose trails. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can go wait in my o ce, okay? You don’t have to be around those models.”

I think it’s too late for that.

The male model squats, and I am met with beau ful brown eyes, tan skin, and full dark hair, swept in a perfect way. He has charm in his blinding smile. He lts his head. “What are you doing under there?”

“I work down here,” I blurt out. I am roas ng from head to toe.

He laughs a husky laugh.

“Lily.” I inch at the sound of Lo’s voice, and I look over my shoulder, met with the back of the white desk. Right, I have the phone pressed to my ear.

“I’m Julian,” the model says, extending his hand.

My palm is too sweaty. He’ll think I’m weird if he shakes a slippery hand, so I point to my phone and give him a nervous smile. “Work stu ,” I say.

“What’s going on?” Lo asks through the receiver. “You okay, Lil?” His worried tone drives knots in my stomach. I don’t want him to be concerned that I’ll cheat. I know it’s a valid fear, but I wish he could trust me one-hundred percent. But he can only do that when I begin to trust myself.

Julian says, “When you’re nished, you should come out from under there. Your o ce has a great view.”

I know he’s just trying to be nice since I’m the an -social monster hiding beneath her desk. He’s not hi ng on me, but I can’t stop looking at his pre y eyelashes.

He stands, and I try to focus my thoughts on the phone call. “Lo?” I ques on whether he’s hung up.

“Lil,” he says slowly, “you’re freaking me the fuck out.”

“Sorry, I’m ne.”

“Where are you?”

“At my desk.” That’s not a lie, right? Technically I am right here. “I just… thought you were going to be in the room too.” I don’t want to cheat on him. I don’t want to even give my mind the ability to contemplate the thought—to wander and fantasize. That will kill me. Keeping them out of sight is best, even though it’s not healthy to avoid the opposite sex when Lo’s not around.

Once I have a handle on controlling the things that tempt me, it’ll be be er. Today’s just not a good day. I am overly aroused.

“You don’t have to talk to them,” he reminds me.

Too late.

“I thought you said you were at your desk.”

“I am.”

“Then how come I don’t see you?”

He’s here? I can’t even crawl out from underneath my desk anymore, not even to greet Lo and Rose. Because everyone by the mu ns will laugh and look at me funny for being down here. I just want to stay hidden un l they all leave.

“Maybe,” I say, “because your superpower is to turn me invisible.”

He pauses. “That’s a horrible power. Take it back.”

“Okay ne. I may be here. But I’m not here on my chair,” I whisper.

And then I see a pair of ra ed Vans. He bends in front of me the same way Julian did, but his face isn’t full of kind amusement. His eyes darken, and his brows harden in concern.

“Go model or try on clothes or, you know, do what you do,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m working on something down here.”

“Like what?”

Uhhh… “A report…thing.”

“Okay,” he says, and I relax, glad that he’s le ng me o the hook. “Can I have a hug before I go?”

I crawl forward a li le, s ll blocked by the desk sides, and I wrap my arms around him. He smells good. Like mint soap and a hint of citrusy cologne. Just before I let go, Lo’s arms ghten around my waist, and he begins tugging me out of my sanctuary.

“Lo,” I whisper ercely. I shove his chest, trying to escape and crawl back to my den.

But he brings me into the light, and I bury my face in the crook of his arm, unwilling to meet the mocking gazes of the other models. I don’t want people to look at me like I’m a weird, abnormal girl.

Lo strokes the back of my head, and his lips brush my ear. “Hey, you’re okay. Lil, no one cares.”

“I care,” I mumble.

And then he clasps my face and before I can go spas c, his lips touch mine. He kisses deeply, his tongue slipping into my mouth. My thoughts, my insecuri es—they whoosh out of my head and all my built-up tension starts to ghten again.

The distrac on works too well. Because when he draws back, a few of the models clap and whistle in jest. Lo shakes his head at me as my elbows blush.

“Don’t listen to them.” He rolls out my chair and guides me un l I’m si ng behind my desk once more. And he hangs onto the back, his head dipping low as he meets my ear. “Just think of nishing that kiss tonight.”

I turn my head a frac on to see his sharp features, all ice. “And what if I can’t wait?”

“You can,” he assures me, but his muscles ex, worried by my sudden claim.

“You’re right,” I say. “I can.” I nod, knowing I have to. I have to wait in this chair, with my back to ten male models, and I have to nish double checking my spreadsheet. I nod again, trying to build con dence.

He kisses my temple one last me, leaving me completely aching. And every so o en, my arousal turns to embarrassment and shame. I wonder if any of those models can read my sinful thoughts—or if they just think I’m a bizarre girl. I shouldn’t care about the la er, but being reminded that I’m not normal makes me feel…wrong and dirty.

A er Rose assigns the models ou its, she stops by my desk. “You look

ushed.”

I shrug sheepishly. What else is there to say to that?

“You don’t have to be here, Lily,” she says. “You can go home early.”

“I need to nish this.” I tap my screen. “And I want to ride home with Lo.”

“You’re uncomfortable,” she says.

I am, but I’m desperately trying to do the right thing here. I’m trying to be be er. “It’s okay.”

She pats my shoulder. “If you change your mind, let me know. I won’t be upset by it.” She returns to the models, and she ocks Ka e and Trish, making sure they’re doing their jobs well.

A er ten minutes, I regret drinking two mochas this morning. I have the worst urge to pee, and that means spending me alone in the bathroom. And hello, I’m aroused too, and the allure of self-love is overpowering like a drug.

I cannot squirm any longer in my seat. I don’t want to a ract more unnecessary a en on to myself. So I stand and walk tenta vely to the bathroom past both Trish and Ka e’s work sta ons. I look over my shoulder just once, and I spot all the models pulling on sport’s coats, bu on-downs, collared shirts and golf shorts, all of the clothes tailored and chic.

Lo meets my gaze. He’s full of ques oning. I mouth, bathroom. He nods, but he must see the need creeping over me like a cancer because his worry never disappears. But I can wait to have sex. I’ll be ne, I try to convince myself.

I shut the door behind me, and a er I nish on the toilet, I touch my pan es, about to raise them around my thighs. But I hesitate for one strong second. Because the place between my legs throbs so badly, and I remember the blissful feeling if I just touch once. I’ll be oa ng. I want that.

I shut my eyes and spend a great deal of me in a mental ba le. I end up pulling on my pan es, but my jeans stay around my ankles. I close the toilet lid and sit on the maroon suede covering. The bathroom smells like pine and cranberries, a glass vase of potpourri emi ng the aroma.

It makes leaving ten mes harder.

And then the door opens. I forgot to lock it! I internally shriek. I struggle with my jeans. “Someone’s in here!” I shout, but the body slips inside anyway.

With his back to me, Lo locks the door and then turns around, catching me frozen—with my jeans midway up my legs, with the toilet seat closed.

“I didn’t…” I start. Does he believe me?

I wouldn’t. I’ve been caught with my pants down.

It looks like I didn’t even try to wait. It looks like I gave up.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWELVE

LOREN HALE

I RUB MY LIPS, not sure what to make of Lily si ng on the toilet lid with her jeans halfway up her ankles. I worry about her heavy breath and the shakiness of her hands. She’s an addict who needs her next x.

“Lo, I didn’t,” she says again.

And I believe her this me. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks, and I rush to her before she has a major breakdown. I squat to match her height, and I place my hands on her knees. “Hey, shh.” I cup her face and rub a fallen tear with my thumb. “You’re okay.”

She shakes her head.

“Can you wait?” I ask her. “You have ve more hours.”

She shudders.

I can’t watch her crumble like this. My lungs constrict, my whole chest clenching.

“You should go back,” she says. “You’re working.”

I’ve changed out of the Calloway Couture clothes, and I wear my regular black shirt and jeans. “They’re wri ng down the altera ons for the other models. I have me.” I’m supposed to be pu ng on my second ou it, but Rose is preoccupied with measurements and test shots. She won’t miss me for long.

Lily stares at her hands in her lap, barely mee ng my eyes. “I can wait,” she says under her breath, so meek that I don’t believe her for a second.

“Can you?” I ask.

She nods and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. I tuck her hair behind her ear, wan ng so badly to pull her into my arms and to make it all be er. But that’s not how this new chapter of our lives is supposed to go, is it?

“I didn’t have sex for three whole months,” she says so ly. “What’s ve hours?”

“This is di erent.”

“Why?” she asks, her chin quivering. She so badly wants to grab me. I can see it in the way her eyes it over my body for a brief moment. She catches herself and stares back at the oor.

“Because I wasn’t there,” I tell her. “You didn’t have the opportunity to touch me. It was easier.” I imagine three months without me was like being locked in a house without booze. If there’s nothing to drink, then you’re not going to get drunk. But there are always liquor stores. The same way there are always other guys to fuck. She also had the op on to touch herself, but she’s eliminated that completely. She stuck to her vows.

And I know that if I leave her like this, she’ll break one by masturba ng. She can’t last ve hours, and she won’t ask me to have sex with her. So she’ll be drawn to the next best thing, thinking that self-love is the right solu on. She won’t cheat on me. She’ll just cheat on herself.

So while she sni s and wipes her tears, I rack my mind for that damn blacklist with the therapist’s rules. My head is fuzzy, distracted by Lily’s constant trembling and the way her knees begin to turn inward.

“Lo,” she cries. “I think you should leave.”

My chest falls. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And before she can refute, I kiss her. I part her lips with my tongue, and she clenches my shirt, her so moans like thank yous. Each one drives me harder, and my movements become as hungry as hers. I li her in my arms, her legs ins nc vely wrapping around my waist. And I knock her back into the wall. Her voice is lost in the base of my neck, her forehead pressing to my shoulder.

“I need you,” she whispers, panicked. “Please…” The fear in her voice cuts a new scar.

“Shh, love.” I rub my hand through the back of her hair, and I nip her ear with my teeth. She shudders against me. I want her to release, but I feel like there’s no winning with this one. If I let her go, she’ll masturbate. If I fuck her, she’ll hate herself. If I make her come, she’ll s ll be lled with shame and guilt for not las ng ve hours.

There is no right answer, no fucking break. And so each stroke against her esh is seared with tension and a strong ache, my heart pounding like a jackhammer to cement.

And I kiss her again, my lips swelling beneath her eagerness, her insistency to push deeper, to go farther. She runs her bi en nails across my back, not sharp enough to draw blood, not even long enough to truly scratch, but she digs her ngers into my skin. She grips so ercely, as though I am two seconds from dropping her. From saying no.

My brain clicks, and the blacklist isn’t hazy anymore. We can’t do this. I retract my lips from her, and I don’t meet her eyes.

I fucked up.

I want to punch the wall. I want to scream. More than anything, I want to go sit at a bar and forget the road I was about to pull Lily down. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Lo…”

I bring her to her feet, and she wobbles unsteadily. I keep a hand on her waist, but there’s considerable amount of distance between us.

“What did I do…?” Her high-pitched voice lurches my stomach.

“Nothing,” I say, tucking another piece of hair behind her ear.

“Then we can do something…” She grips my shirt again, clenching the fabric between two panicked sts.

I pry her ngers from me. “We can’t have sex here, and I can’t touch you here either.” But she can’t wait un l tonight.

She nods rapidly. And as the news se les with her, she pulls her shoulders back like I’ve seen Rose o en do. She raises her chin, trying to be strong. Christ, I want to kiss her for it and to apologize for temp ng her even more. I should have taken her to our house where we can have sex. In fact, that’s what we’re going to do now.

“Grab your stu ,” I tell her. “We’re going home, and I’ll make you come there.” My tone isn’t sexy. It’s clinical. I just want her to be able to wait un l we reach our bedroom.

I nd her jeans on the ground, and I help put her legs in each pant hole.

“Wait,” she says.

I don’t want to give her the chance to convince me to have sex with her in the bathroom. It’s not happening. I already screwed up by arousing her more—I don’t need to break anything on that blacklist.

Public sex—yeah, that’s not fucking allowed.

I zip up her jeans and sh the bu on through, towering over her with dominance that makes her squirm. I want to kiss her. God, I just want to hold her. But instead of drawing towards Lily, I have to draw back.

“Wait,” she says again, more forceful this me. She grabs my wrist to stop me. “You’re not going home.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I say. I don’t add that I don’t trust her. Her ngers may slip into her pan es; she may give herself what I’ve denied.

“You’re working,” she reminds me, tears building again. “I’m not ruining your rst job.” She inhales a strong breath and adds, “I’ll stay at my desk, and when you’re done working, we can go.”

I hesitate.

“You should only be one more hour. I can wait that long.”

“Plus the ride home,” I remind her.

She nods quickly. “Yes, yes.”

I like this op on. Mostly because Lily came up with the idea, and it’ll lessen whatever guilt she’ll feel for not being able to wait tonight.

“Okay.” I kiss her cheek. And she sighs, but as she walks to the door, the tension becomes apparent in the way her thighs press together.

I lead her out of the bathroom, and we enter the lo space where Trish and Ka e ing clothes at one another, xing the garments on the models quickly. I look around for Rose, but she’s nowhere in sight.

Lily keeps her eyes pinned to the desk and nowhere else. “I’ll be okay,” she says, more to herself than me.

“I know you will.”

I watch her make the short journey to her desk. She slides into her chair and studies her computer screen, focused and concentrated. Maybe it’s all a façade. But I know she’s trying damn hard.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LOREN HALE

I NEED to nd Rose to tell her that I’m leaving right a er I nish with the

ng. There aren’t many places she could be. Besides her glass o ce, there’s only the backroom. I saunter down the short hallway, my shoulders s . I stu my sts in my pockets so they’ll stop shaking. I feel high on fear

and concern, my adrenaline spiked badly. I just need a drink.

Her icy voice echoes from an open door. I rest my arm on the frame, my eyes dar ng around the dimly lit area that’s lled with marked boxes, racks of clothes, and clear plas c tubs. Rose has her back to me, a phone pressed to her ear.

“I don’t want to have this conversa on with you right now. We have a photo shoot next week and a runway show in two months—”

“Which is precisely why I called.” I’d recognize Samantha Calloway’s bi ng voice from the fucking moon. I’m not surprised that she called her daughter. She’s been involved with Rose’s company from its birth.

“Don’t start,” Rose warns her. “This isn’t going to end well, Mother.”

“You’re right. It’s not going to end well for you. I have helped your father market Fizzle for twenty years. What you’re doing is going to ruin Calloway Couture.”

“He’s just a model!” Rose shouts. “He’s not the face of the company.”

I freeze.

“He’s an alcoholic,” Samantha retorts. “And his face will be plastered in magazines and billboards next to your brand. Your company will su er for it.”

It suddenly feels hot in here. I tug at the collar to my shirt. Why is it so fucking hot?

“And who sees Loren Hale and immediately thinks alcoholic? Your friends? Because I sure as hell don’t know anyone else in this fucking country who would give a shit.” Venom laces Rose’s words.

“Don’t speak to me that way. I’m your mother, and it’s my job to give you advice.”

“I hear it,” Rose says. “Your advice, while I know you mean well, is judgmental and cold. Loren will be a model in the campaign. He’ll be in photos, runway shows and commercials, so if you have a problem with that, then turn o the television, divert your eyes, but don’t scold me.”

Samantha Calloway sighs. “Is there anything that can change your mind, Rose? You’re making a very big mistake.”

“Nothing,” she says.

“Well then, I’ll see you Sunday.” She pauses. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

Rose sighs just as heavily. “Me too.” They both hang up, and when Rose spins around, she jumps back, her hand to her chest in surprise. “Lo, I…”

“Don’t,” I say with a bi er smile that turns into a grimace. “Look, I didn’t know that my role in your company would impact you nega—”

“It doesn’t,” she interjects. “She’s just overdrama c.”

All these feelings scorch my insides, and if I don’t speak my mind now, I’m going to be driven down the street to a place I shouldn’t go. “Your mother is right,” I tell her, the words sinking low. “And I won’t screw with your career just because I need some cash. I’ll nd another way.”

“Don’t,” Rose tells me now. She holds a manicured nger directly at my face. “You’re staying.”

“I’m not.” I can’t stay. I can’t fuck up another Calloway’s life with my problems. Lily is so much a part of me that there’s no disentangling from her now, but Rose—I’m not going to trap her inside my vice. I’m not going to lead her down this dark path that I walk on.

I turn to leave, and Rose grabs my arm. “You need this job.”

I jerk out of her grip. “I appreciate your help, I do, but you have to let me go.”

“I can’t,” she says with such determina on. “I promised you this job, and you’d s ll be here if it wasn’t for that phone call.”

I shrug. “Yeah? Shit happens, Rose. One day, I was an only child, and the next, I have a brother and an empty bank account. I’ve learned to deal.” I’m about to cross through the door, but she slides in front of me, blocking my exit.

“I won’t beg you to stay,” she tells me.

“Good,” I snap. “Then we have an understanding.” I go to pass her, but she extends her arm, trapping me. “Rose.”

“You haven’t even tried, Loren. You’re giving up.”

Veins pulse in my neck, and I lean in low. “Rose,” I sneer, “for a girl that cannot stomach a crying baby, who wouldn’t be able to empathize with a child if she tugged on your goddamn sleeve, you really should stop trying to understand the human race.” My words cut deep. Rose has been incredibly open-minded since she learned about Lily’s addic on. She’s been there for her every single minute of the day, and I know she would drop her whole schedule if I asked her to.

But I just need her to let me go—to realize that she’s lost this ba le. For a girl who always wins, that’s a tough one to swallow.

Rose purses her lips and then she relents by edging out of the doorway. “If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.” I can’t even tell her thank you. I realize I am back to square one. Jobless and without a real plan.

“I’ll write you a check for your me today.”

I nod. “Just don’t overpay. I’ll be able to tell.” If anyone is going to accidentally hand out more money, it’s going to be Rose and Connor. But I don’t want to accept their charity. Not because I’m too prideful. I just want to prove to myself that I can do this on my own.

Her eyes darken, so I know that’s exactly what she planned on doing. I pat her arched shoulder, and I head back into the main room. Lily’s forehead is almost pressed to the computer. I walk up to her, no cing that her nose touches the screen.

I smile. God, I can’t believe I’m smiling a er all that has happened. The fact that this girl can upturn my lips a er such a bad day makes me never want to let her go. “Are you planning on ea ng your spreadsheet?” I ask her. “Or are you trying to disappear into cyberspace?”

Her cheeks rose, and she leans back. “I was making sure my numbers were right.” Her eyes trail my body. “Shouldn’t you be in a collared shirt?”

“Nah,” I say. “It’s not my style.” I reach out and hold her hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

She frowns. “But, you’re not done with work yet.”

“I quit,” I tell her.

Her face twists in so many emo ons. “Not…not for me, right? Lo, you can’t.” She points to the mu ns. “Go back.”

“Lil,” I say so ly, bringing her to her feet, my hands at her waist. “I’ll explain everything in the car. But you have to trust me that none of this is because of you, okay? It’s my choice.”

“Did Rose…?” She looks over my shoulder, ready to dart towards her sister and convince her that I should stay. But she has it backwards.

“Rose wants me here. I don’t want to be.”

Lily processes the words. “Okay…okay, so we’re going?”

I nod.

“You promise you’ll tell me why? And you won’t lie to me?”

“No lying,” I assure her. We have to be honest. It’s the one thing we need to be good at.

She leans over her keyboard, closes out Excel, and shuts down her computer.

As Lily steps forward, she whips her head from side to side, paranoid that someone can see straight through her—that they can tell just how aroused she is. They can’t. But I sure as hell can.

I swoop in behind her, my hands planted on her waist, and my lips brush her ear. “Want a ride?”

She brightens almost immediately. I don’t wait for her to say yes. I crouch a li le in front of her, and I li her up on my back. She holds ght around my neck, and I keep my arms underneath her legs, willing to carry her as far as she needs to go—just like when we were kids.

Some things never change.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LOREN HALE

I FINISH TELLING LILY about the phone call between Rose and their mother about the same me that we reach the parking deck. Lil s ll clings to my back like a koala bear to a tree, and I wish I didn’t have to set her down. But I drop her onto her feet while I search my pockets for the keys to her car.

“I’m glad you told me,” she says, no judgment in her eyes, just complete understanding. I’m about to kiss her, but I remember that she’s aroused, her eyes glazed for something more than just a peck on the cheek.

She holds onto my belt loop with two ngers, silently tugging me towards her body. I don’t even think she realizes that she’s doing it.

Right as I sh out the keys and unlock the doors, she lets out a sharp breath and scu les behind my back.

“Hide me,” she whispers, gripping the hem of my shirt and using my body as a shield.

“What?” I frown and scan the dark parking deck.

“Is that Lily Calloway?” a guy says, not even twenty feet from us. He just opened his Jeep door and climbed out, a couple spaces to the right of Lily’s vehicle. He walks towards us, and I spot a Penn soccer s cker on his gas cap.

The guy looks vaguely familiar. He has tan skin, and his trim build matches soccer players. But I can’t place him. Not yet. He’s swimming in a fog.

Lily reveals herself now that she’s been sighted. “Hi…”

“Do you remember me?” he asks, his eyes brie y ickering to me and then back to Lil. I know, just by the way that he’s looking at her, that they’ve had sex.

If I was tense before, I’m wired now, my muscles ghtening into taut strands. I’m used to being the one who knocks on Lily’s door in the morning and escorts her one-night stand out of our apartment. I’d even grab the poor guy a cup of co ee. But he’s not a face that I remember being charitable to. I don’t think he ever stepped foot in our old apartment.

“Yeah,” Lily says, reaching for my hand. She holds it ghtly, and I do her one be er. I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She relaxes only a li le, and the guy—well, he acts oblivious to my claim over her. Do I really need to wave a giant ag that says BOYFRIEND in his fucking face?

He nods. “I was just thinking about you the other day.” His eyes rake her body. Is he serious? I’m standing right here. I glare so hard that my eyes start to burn.

“Lo,” Lily says, “this is Mason Nix. Remember that frat party we went to our freshman year?” We went to a lot of par es when we were eighteen. I feel like I’ve shelved this memory so far back that it’s going to take an hour to nd.

“Right,” I say vaguely, s ll drilling holes into Mason. He meets my gaze but looks completely una ected by my warning. What’s this guy’s deal?

“Anyway, it’s funny that I’m running into you, Lily. I was going to call you yesterday—”

“You have her number?” I ques on.

“Yeah,” he says, his lips rising. “And I have yours. Loren Hale, right? She gave me your number too, said something about how she always loses track of her phone.”

She must have been drunk. Lil doesn’t usually give out her number or mine. She said it “promotes stalking”—which clearly seems to be the case.

My blood ices over, and my hand on Lily’s shoulder suddenly feels like a weight. So he has her number, and mine. He has the ability to text us, but he hardly seems vindic ve towards me, de nitely not enough to threaten Lily.

He licks his lips and nods to her. “So, I was thinking you’d want to hookup later.” What? “Maybe tomorrow, around eight. Same frat house, same place. If you want to be fucked hard, I’m your guy.”

Lily balks. “I…”

“No,” I sneer. “She’s my girlfriend, you asshole.”

Mason lets out a short laugh. “That’s funny.” He looks back at Lily, wai ng for her response.

Am I invisible? Am I not speaking clearly? I don’t fucking get it?! I step in front of Lily, le ng go of her hand. “She’s my girlfriend. You’re never going to fuck her.”

“I already did,” he retorts.

My jaw locks, and I clench my ngers into a st.

“So what do you say, Lily? If I’m not enough for you, I can call up some of my buddies. I know you like that.”

The memory hits me all at once—the one I tried to suppress. And I have the sudden urge to vomit un l I pass out. I can’t even talk about it. I can’t men on what happened or else I think I may explode. I may beat him un l he can’t stand on two legs. And it’s not his fault for what happened. Not really. It’s mine for not stopping Lily.

For not holding her in my arms and telling her that I truly loved her. That I would be enough, and I’d quit drinking so she’d quit fucking other guys. That’s all I had to do. Choose her before alcohol. And I picked wrong for so many years.

He tries to step towards her, and I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back. Things have changed. “She’s with me. She’s not going to fuck you. If you can’t understand that, then go read a damn book to understand the English language.”

“And she was your girlfriend two years ago. That didn’t stop her before. In fact, you waved her towards me.”

I want to strangle my past drunken neck. Our fake rela onship is coming back to haunt me. “That was di erent. She’s not seeing anyone else but me now. So fuck o .”

Mason lets out another laugh. “There’s no way that girl is only with you.” He knows. He knows she has a problem. And I wonder if he sent those texts. He was thinking about her recently, didn’t he say that?

“Were you really thinking about Lily the other day, or were you just blowing smoke?”

He smiles as though I’ve given him permission to pursue her. Over my dead fucking corpse. “I men oned her to my friends a couple weeks ago. We were talking about the girls at Penn who give the best head. Everyone agreed she was the best cocksucker on campus.”

And I can’t help it.

I deck him. Right in the face.

It didn’t feel good. My knuckles are on re, and Mason touches his split lip, shocked.

Lily comes up behind me and starts tugging my arm, trying to lead me to our car.

I follow her, walking backwards so he doesn’t break my sharp gaze.

And then he says, “I knew it.”

I stop. My face falls because the look he wears—it’s full of detest, but it’s the kind of hate that’s been there for a while, accumulated throughout the years. He should be pissed about that punch to the jaw, not something so deep-seated.

“You were the one who slashed our res because we fucked your girlfriend.” We. I cringe, never ever wan ng to hear that again. We. Not I. Not me. Mul ple guys.

And I may have popped a re or two. I was drunk. I was eighteen. And I was pissed and resen ul, more at myself than at anyone else. But I took it out on this guy. And I buried the memory.

“Have you been tex ng me?” I glare.

Mason grits his teeth.

Lily tries to drag me o again, but I stay my course.

“Have you?!” I shout. What I did—that was two years ago. But there are some things that no guy can let go. This is probably one of them.

“Bye, Lily,” Mason says, his eyes only planted on me. “We’ll hookup soon, yeah? And maybe I won’t tell anyone else what a good li le slut you are.”

I shake o Lily, and I go crazy. I grab him by the face, pinching his cheeks together with one furious hand, and I shove his back over the hood of Lil’s car.

He struggles to stand up from my hold, but I pin him down, my kneecap pressing into his dick.

“You touch her, you even think about her, and I’ll have you in the ground before you can say thank you, Loren Hale. You go to the media, the press, and I will ruin you, star ng with your soccer career. You don’t even know who I am, you motherfucker.”

He spits in my face, and I throw him o the car and onto the cement.

I think he’s about to come back and tackle me, but he staggers to his feet.

I don’t give him the last word. Lily physically pushes me into the passenger seat, knowing that I’m too crazed to drive right now. And she rolls up the window while Mason begins yelling again. We can’t hear him in the car, but he smacks our hood with two sts as we pull out.

And then we drive o , his middle nger in the rearview mirror.

My hands shake, and my heart pumps a mile a minute.

Lily says nothing. She stares faraway at the road, the silence blanke ng the car. I need a drink. I need a goddamn drink right now. I run my hand through my hair, and then I glance back at her, checking her state of mind… and body.

Her eyes glass, but her knees are locked together, and her leg bounces. Fuck. I forgot. We’re on our way home to have sex. I lean back, hi ng the headrest with an exasperated sigh. Everything is just so far out of my control.

When we’re stuck in tra c, bumper to bumper, Lily nally breaks the quiet. “You slashed their res?”

I rub my mouth. “I may have…” It was a long me ago. We just entered college. There were more guys for her to fuck. She was gone almost every night, and I worried about whether or not she’d wake up crying. Whether I’d nd her bruised and disposed of. It was horrible.

She nods to herself, le ng this sink in. “What if he wasn’t the guy tex ng us?” she asks. “You just made him angrier.”

“Yeah…I see that.” I didn’t think running into her one-night stands would be this hard. I also didn’t think they’d ask to sleep with her while I was present. That sucked.

Lily breathes heavily.

“Hey,” I say, leaning towards her. I slide my hand on her leg. “It’s okay. We’re going to be ne.”

She nods, trying to believe it as much as me. If I don’t nd this guy soon, I’ll lose my mind. I think I’m about there.

She turns on the radio, and we listen to music all the way home, our breath slowing together. Some me later, we nally reach the house and pull into the garage. Lily snaps o her belt and turns to me.

“I don’t need to have sex anymore. I’m okay now.” Her words sound prac ced, like she’s been reci ng them in her head for the past hour.

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her.

Her face pales. “No, really Lo, I’m ne.”

My eyes fall to her legs, her thighs pressed ghtly together. “So if we’re not having sex anymore, what are you going to go do?”

She shrugs, her shoulders tense and locked. She’s so fucking aroused. Just admit it, Lily. “Maybe…take a shower.”

“And masturbate?”

Her eyes widen. “No-no,” she stammers. “No, just shower.”

I lean forward and nger the bu on on her jeans.

“What…what are you doing?” she asks. Her chest collapses with a heady breath, something that has my need building.

“I’m checking.”

“For what?” she asks in a small voice.

I unzip her, and I watch her eyes plant on my hand as it descends down her pants and underneath her pan es. She grabs my wrist as I slip my

ngers inside of her. And she contracts around them, wet and eager and so

ready.

“You’re not aroused?” I ask again.

Her head lts back, her eyes closed, her hand gripping my wrist so I don’t move. “No,” she breathes.

“You’re a li le liar.”

“I’m not.” She gasps as I push deeper, in and out. “Lo,” she cries. Her back begins to arch, trying to drive my ngers further inside.

We need to move this upstairs. I disentangle from her ght clutch and slip my ngers out. “Go upstairs,” I tell her. “Take o all your clothes, lie s ll on the bed, and I’ll make you feel be er.”

She nods wildly, wan ng nothing more than for me to take her mind o of what just happened. She opens the door and then hesitates. “Are you not coming with me?”

“I’ll be there in a second.”

“Lo—”

“I just need a minute.”

She glances at the raw skin on my knuckles, and then she nods again and heads into the house. When the door closes behind her, I grab my phone and dial a number.

The line clicks a er the third ring. “Hey. How was the rst day on the job?”

I can’t speak. I shouldn’t have called him. I’m about to hang up.

“Lo?” Ryke’s voice turns serious. “Hey, talk to me.”

I let out a breath. “Tell me why I shouldn’t.” I pinch my eyes. I want this to end. This torment. These feelings. I want to help Lily without needing something to drown my own thoughts.

“Because one drink isn’t worth what you’ll feel in the morning.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“You’ll puke,” he reminds me. That’s right, I’m on Antabuse. One sip of alcohol and I’ll be sick.

I pause, wondering if I s ll could test it out. Maybe I could. I grimace. Maybe I couldn’t.

“Because you love Lily more than that.”

And it hits me. I’m here. In the fucking car. Deba ng about a stupid glass of alcohol when Lily is wai ng for me upstairs, gh ng her compulsions, probably seconds from touching herself. And I’m supposed to be there to help her say no. To stop her. I’m the guy looking out for her the way Ryke is there for me.

Rose trusted that I would be able to stay sober and help Lily. And this is the one thing I want to do right.

“I have to go,” I say.

“Wait.” His voice pitches. “Do I need to come over? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t come over.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ryke, unless you want to walk in on me fucking my girlfriend, you need to stay at home.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “See you tomorrow?”

“Yep.” We both hang up.

And I step out of the car.

Ready to help Lily. Ready to be there.

Ready to change.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

I PACE BACK and forth in the kitchen. I’m a ball of string that needs to be unwound, an anxious mess and a compulsive freak. I didn’t follow Lo’s orders to retreat upstairs to our room and shed my clothes.

I stay right beside the backdoor, pressing my ear occasionally to the wood, wai ng for him, hoping and praying that he’s not doing something bad and dangerous. I bite my nails, listening carefully at the sound of shu ed footsteps.

In the car, he looked like he wanted to sink and drown to the bo om of a dark, cold ocean. And I can’t let him do that. I can’t let him go.

The car door slams.

I peel my ear away and scu le backwards, not quick enough. The door swings open and Lo catches me right here in the kitchen, disobeying his orders. A horrible, insane part of me wonders if he’ll hate that I care about him, if he’ll reprimand me for it.

I blurt out, “I’m sorry. I was just worried, and you looked upset…” I trail o while he stays sta onary near the wall, his cheekbones sharpening. And I imagine what could have happened if he drank, if he did something worse in that garage. If he le me.

For real this me.

The truest deepest part of me suddenly speaks.

“I don’t know how to live without you.” And I shake my head quickly as tears pool. “And I don’t want to know how. I don’t want to nd out.”

He is my breath. My soul. My life-force. I have spent forever with him. Being apart is the most unnatural feeling in the world. Three months—I could handle that like a bad itch. Forever without him?

Just kill me now.

He slowly walks to me, and his hand skims my cheek, his eyes never so ening, his sharp demeanor never changing. He’s Loren Hale. Ice and whiskey. Powerful and intoxica ng.

He’s my very best friend.

His forehead presses to mine, his lips so near. In a low whisper, he says, “You’ll never have to nd out, Lil.”

I ache to kiss him, to solidify those words as truth.

His lips nearly brush mine, but he teases, a sliver of space temp ng me and causing tension to build between us. His amber eyes icker to me. “I will never learn how to live without you. I couldn’t fucking bear it.”

I grip his arms, keeping him close. This feels imagined, like a part of my fantasies. But I’m touching him, cut muscles, his legs against my legs. I let out a breath. “And what if everyone says we shouldn’t be together—that it’s not right?” Every person has to learn to live alone at some point in their life. Why do we? I always wonder. Because it’s right, my conscience says. But I love him. But you’re co-dependent. But I love him. But it’s not okay.

I want our love to be right.

Why can’t it be right?

“No,” he immediately says, holding my face in two large hands. “If the whole world says living without each other is what we should do, then this will be the last wrong I make.”

Yes.

We connect to each other fully, his lips touching mine in passionate despera on, as though two people are literally trying to pull us apart, as though we’re giving them the middle nger, telling them to fuck o .

Fuck o . I love Loren Hale. I can’t live without him. However silly that may be, it is the undying truth. Even if he was with another girl. Even if we never could touch. I could not live without Lo. He is as much a part of me as the sun is a part of the sky, as the Earth is to the universe.

I need him in order to wake up in the morning.

I need him to feel whole.

He clutches my hair, the long kiss stealing my breath. And without warning, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. Oh God. His hand grips my ass as he carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

My heart has traveled to my throat.

On the second level, he opens the bedroom door and tosses me roughly on the ma ress.

I struggle to catch the air that escapes my lungs, and when I do, I prop my body on my elbows and watch him watch me.

He unzips his jeans, never breaking my gaze. His shirt comes o next, uncovering his de ned muscles that beckon me to touch. I undress with the same mastered e ciency, breathing so heavily that my ribs jut out and in with quick succession.

In this moment, I have no desire to touch myself. I want him on me. In me. I can wait for his hands, for his body, for his breath.

So I watch him as he walks to the nightstand, only in black boxer-briefs while I stay completely bare. He opens the drawer.

I sit on my knees, my eyes widening in delighted an cipa on.

When he shuts it, my mouth drops a li le. “I thought…” you were just ge ng a condom. “Are those…?” I’m imagining them. This has to be a fantasy. “Where’d you nd those?” I would have seen silver handcu s in our room! I would have jumped for joy and paraded them around like they were a bag of galleons.

He climbs onto the bed, on his knees in front of me, towering over my small frame. His lips li in a devious smile. “A li le black box,” he tells me.

“I need to start opening more boxes,” I say in a breathless whisper. “Are you going to cu me to you?”

His grin lights up his whole face. “No, love.” And then he li s me by the waist and sets me closer to our pillows. He clips one cu around my wrist and then the other to a rung in the headboard.

Ohhh…my…

“Don’t move,” he instructs as he slips o his boxer-briefs. When he lowers his body against mine, I ins nc vely run my free hand across his shoulder, his bicep, sliding my ngers along his abs towards his cock.

He grabs my hand before I reach the best place. He shakes his head at me once in disapproval, but his lips betray him, rising as he soaks in my eager gaze.

“No touching,” he says, his voice forceful. He climbs o the bed, leaving me cold and alone on the ma ress.

“Wait, I won’t—I promise.” Come back.

He disappears into the closet, and I wonder if this is a test that my therapist concocted. Is he supposed to leave me wan ng and craving? Am I supposed to overpower this compulsive demon while I am in desperate need?

I’m going to fail.

I already know it.

I bite my lip, weight crashing into me. I stay en rely s ll, expec ng Lo to walk out fully dressed, to wave goodbye and go meet Ryke somewhere. This was all a game to get me to this point, imprisoned on my bed with only one hand for use.

And then he exits.

But he’s naked, like before.

He holds a scarf, and I can barely process what this means. My head

oats away as the bed rocks, as he edges near me, li s my other hand and

es my free wrist to the headboard.

I am not as excited as before, mainly because I just freaked out.

When Lo looks back down at me, his smile fades into dark concern. “Hey, Lil…” His thumb skims my cheek. “You’re okay.” He must recognize the fear in my eyes. “I won’t ever desert you, love. Not for a goddamn moment. You’re mine to take care of, you understand?”

His words instantly ll my heart. I nod quickly. “Yes.”

“I’m going to take care of you now. I’m going to ll you so deep that you’re going to wish you could touch me, but you can’t.” Yes. “You’re going to come each me I slip in.” Yes. “You’re going to ask me to stop to catch your breath.” Yes. “I won’t.”

Please.

His hand descends to the spot between my legs, wet and ready. He spreads my legs open with his knees, and his ngers pulse inside of me. I writhe and buck up to try to meet him. But he contains me on the ma ress; he so ens my jagged, impa ent movements with a hand to my hip.

I try to reach forward and run my ngers through his hair, but the silky scarf stops me, and the hard cu digs into my other wrist. He dictates the posi on, the speed, the tempo of our love.

He replaces his ngers with his long, thick cock, so big for me, and I cry out, jerking against the restraint. He keeps my legs spread open and bends my knees. When he leans forward to kiss me, his whole cock slowly dives into me, no space to breathe.

I let out a staggered moan that turns sharp and needy. His lips hover right over my parted ones, and he rubs the sweaty hair out of my face.

In a low, husky voice, he whispers, “Every inch of me is inside of you.”

“Lo,” I cry. I want to touch him. I want to wrap my arms around his shoulders and never let go.

He doesn’t pull out or rock just yet. He stays deep, my need building

ercely. He breathes just as heavily as me, nearly kissing, nearly shi ing,

but he remains in this single, taun ng posi on that has my nerves singing.

“Tell me the rst thing that comes to your head,” he says.

In an aching whisper, I say, “I love you.”

His eyes graze me with sheer want. “How much do you love me?”

“So much.”

“How badly do you want me?”

“So badly,” I say with a short gasp. “Please.”

“How do I feel inside of you?”

I struggle to form words, my toes beginning to curl, my muscles spindling.

“Lily?” he says forcefully.

“…Good.” I manage to spu er.

“How good?”

I shake my head. I can’t describe. “You’re unlike anyone…” He’s my best friend. My best friend is all the way inside of me. If I think back years ago, when I wouldn’t allow myself to even fantasize about this moment, I would have died and come right there.

He slowly slips back and then slowly slips in. I shudder as soon as he

lls me again. “How was that?” he asks with a growing smile. He knows

exactly how that was.

“I can’t…”

“You can’t what?”

“Breathe.” I can breathe, of course—I’m talking. But it feels like my lungs are about to explode.

“I’m not stopping,” he reminds me. Please don’t ever. He slips out the same way for the second me, and when he eases himself completely inside of me, my cries must breach the walls of our bedroom.

“Lo, Lo, Lo!” I repeat in hurried succession. I constrict around him once and then twice.

He lets out a deep groan, his mouth par ng like mine, unable to tease me with a lingering kiss any longer. “Lil,” he says, si ng up o my body to see the way he disappears between my legs. I want to see that too, but Lo shi s even further forward, and I constrict again. Holy…

My back arches, and I tug against the cu and the scarf, the metal digging into my skin, the sharpness reminding me of Lo, igni ng something intense within me.

Even as I come, I prepare for him to pull out and say enough is enough. One peak is all you get, Lily.

But he con nues that mocking rou ne. Slipping out so very slowly. Slipping in so very slowly. Stopping, wai ng, watching me.

And I come again.

He’s burs ng every nerve in my body. He’s causing my world to spin.

And I can see how much he’s wai ng for his release, how his own peak closes in, and how he restrains himself from coming, from ending this. Each

me I ghten around his cock, he groans and nds a way to stay sane, to

stay back in order to help me. In order to allow me to reach this place many, many mes.

He’s lling my every single need.

He’s taking care of me.

Only Lo can sa sfy every part of my all-consuming soul.

He is truly my everything.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LOREN HALE

THE THERAPIST’S o ce rests in the heart of New York City, and on the ride here, Lily can’t keep her legs from bouncing. I’ve spent three months spilling my guts to doctors and psychologists; one sex therapist isn’t going to scare me o . I just wish I could take away Lily’s nerves.

I told her it won’t be weird—that this lady has probably heard some wild things—but it wasn’t enough to stop her head from whipping towards the door like she was ready to ing herself out.

I take her hand, intertwining her ngers with mine. Her shoulders slacken and she turns to look at me, releasing a giant breath at the same

me. I can’t help but smile. She’s cute, even when she doesn’t mean to be.

A er paying the cab, a tense elevator ride, and a short walk down the hall, we wait in a small area that looks more like a modern living room: glass bookshelves and light streaming through long windows. The o ce door swings open, and the therapist mo ons us inside. A leather couch sits along the co ee-colored wall, and a robust black leather chair lies directly across.

As she takes a seat with a li le notebook in hand, I embed her looks in my mind. I’m not sure how I pictured Lily’s sex therapist, but she de nitely wasn’t middle-aged with a short black bob. The woman is even nier than Lily, probably no taller than ve feet.

“You must be Loren.” She extends her hand before I sit on the couch. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I shake hers and then se le beside Lily, my arm curving around her waist. And I watch the therapist, seeing if she no ces the touch and if she’s going to cri cize me for it. She doesn’t say a word, but her eyes do catch our embrace.

“It’s actually Lo,” I correct her. “Obviously Lily didn’t tell you everything.” My words taste nasty in my mouth, and they sound even worse.

And yet, the therapist smiles good-naturedly.

I don’t know why this irritates me. I wish she’d snap at me like Rose does for being rude and insolent.

I glance out the window. Her vast view of the city probably costs a shit ton—especially with a park directly in sight.

Of course Rose picked out the most expensive therapist in a hundred-mile radius. Not that money means anything to Lily. But I wouldn’t be able to a ord having a cracker with… I read her name on the plaque of the oak desk. Dr. Allison Banning.

Lily never men ons her by rst name, always referring to her as “Dr. Banning” but if I have to expose my personal feelings to someone, I don’t want to act like she’s a complete stranger.

“So Allison…” I watch her cross her ankles and focus her whole a en on on me. No wonder Rose liked her. “Do you get many sex addict, alcoholic couples?”

“You’re my rst.”

“Shocking.”

Lily elbows me in the side, and I can’t tell if it’s because of my sarcasm or because I called her Allison. The therapist stays unblinking, already mastering that complacent face and cool exterior. She could give Connor Cobalt a run for his money.

“Why don’t you tell me how it’s been since you moved home?” Allison asks me.

“About sex or in general?”

Lily turns a bright shade of red and slumps in her seat. I’m more comfortable talking about fucking, not because I have a dick or because she’s shy—even though she kind of is—but because I’m not the sex addict. I don’t feel ashamed about sex. She does.

I raise my arm to her shoulders, and she eases into my body a li le, relaxing more.

“Either one,” Allison tells me. Her eyes icker between Lily and me with rapt a en on now. She’s de nitely going to pick apart every single movement we make. “You decide.”

Lily opens her mouth, but I cut her o on purpose. I don’t want her to dodge the subject. “We had sex a few days ago,” I confess. Explaining my inability to be with Lily without arousing her—well, it feels like walking through quicksand. And so I purposefully keep it short, direct, to the point. She doesn’t need to know the messy details.

Like how she couldn’t wait un l the night. How, a er an hour, I had to pry myself o her to stop. She was sa s ed, but with Lily, it’s a momentary ful llment. It leaves the second she wishes to feel a climax again. I wanted to fuck her as much as she wanted to be fucked, but I had to watch her face crumble as she realized that was it.

For the rst me, I’m looking at the bigger picture—the future—but Christ, no one ever men oned how I’d have to endure preliminary pain to get there.

“You had sex a few days ago,” Allison repeats. “What exactly happened?”

“I put my penis in her vagina.” Embarrassment and remorse swim with the black tar in my chest. My lter—it’s permanently on the fritz. I think my father must have busted it one night. But not with his sts. He’s too civilized for that.

Lily lets out a laugh, which makes me feel a li le be er.

“Not anatomically,” Allison clari es. “Did you only have missionary? How long did it last? What me of day? And how did it end? What were your feelings a erwards?”

So many fucking ques ons, but I take them one at a me. “Only missionary. It was about seven o’clock.”

Lily immediately reddens at the me of day.

My eyes narrow, knowing full well that I just got caught by Lil’s ability to turn into a cherry.

“It’s best if you don’t lie,” Allison tells me.

“It was around three,” I say with a shrug. “She couldn’t wait un l later, but she did hold out un l we got home.”

Allison nods. “That’s really good, Lily.”

She brightens a li le at the compliment, and I squeeze her shoulder, realizing that my words don’t hold the same power as her therapist. To hear a professional say, “You’re doing good,” must be a relief.

I wouldn’t know, really. Even though I learned a lot, most of the people at rehab wanted me out of there. And my therapist stares at me like I’m a world-class fuck up. And Ryke—well, compliments from him aren’t worth much. He’s trying to make amends for being absent in my life, for leaving me alone with a father that he knew ranked low on the World’s Best Dad chart.

“And what happened a erwards?” Allison asks.

“I pulled away from her,” I say, “but she tried to keep going. I ended up just holding her in my arms un l she fell asleep.”

The brief happiness in Lily’s eyes begins to icker out, replaced by silent humilia on once more.

“You didn’t fall asleep with her?”

I frown. “What does it ma er if I did or didn’t?” I don’t understand how this pertains to Lily. I shi on my seat, and Lily turns her a en on to me. I don’t like that at all.

“You have a problem too,” Allison says, “and your addic on will a ect her. It already has.”

I cut her o . “I get it. I should stay away from her. I should say goodbye and let her have a gh ng chance.”

Lily’s eyes widen, and she clenches my shirt between pallid ngers.

Even thinking about le ng her go puts a pain so deep in my gut. No one knows me like Lily Calloway. She’s my best friend, and without her— God, what’s the point?

“No,” Allison says atly. “I was going to say that I’m here for you too, Lo. Your recovery is congruent with Lily’s. In order for her to be healthy, you need to be as well.” She pauses, glancing only once at her notebook. “I don’t think separa on is the right ac on here. Without a monogamous rela onship, Lily may fall back into her old rou ne, and it’s best to strengthen the one that’s already in place, not destroy it.”

I nod, her words slowly sinking in. I wait for the relief, but it barely hits me. I think all my happiness is buried beneath the torment of what’s to come.

“So,” she begins again, “why didn’t you fall asleep with her?”

I lick my lips, more willing to clear my thoughts now that I know she’s on our side. “Sleep has been really di cult for me lately. It takes me longer than Lily.” My leg jostles a li le, and Lily is the one to press her hand to my knee, to give me much needed comfort, even though I’d rather be her rock right now. “Every night for years,” I say, “I’d drink un l I passed out. Alcohol —that was my sleeping pill.” It was the very thing that stopped my restless thoughts and tucked me into bed. Without it, I’m constantly exhausted.

Allison asks me why that is, and I explain my alcohol dependency. Though I give her brief details, not wan ng to focus the whole session on me. So I’m glad when Allison directs her next ques on to Lil.

“How did it make you feel when he told you to stop?”

A long pause strains the air.

Lily is weighing the truth with a lie. It’s what we do. We construct a pleasant story to mask the pain, to so en the hurt. We’re both so good at it that some mes we even begin to believe the lies ourselves. I am terri ed to travel down that road again, but it’s an easy one to take.

She opens her mouth and then closes it, unsure.

“It’s okay,” I prod. Even if the truth is ugly and cold, I want to hear it. I’m ready for us to lay everything out un l we’re completely bare and exposed. I don’t know how else to make this work.

Allison rewords the ques on, so ening its existence. “It won’t be the

rst or last me he’s going to tell you to stop. Now is a good me to talk

about your reac on to the situa on. So how did it make you feel, Lily?”

She only hesitates a second. “Not good.” Her eyes land on her knees, and her shoulders curve forward. She looks small and sad and very, very heartbroken.

A wave of emo ons slams into me, and I have trouble picking each one apart.

“And I just…” she stammers. “…I don’t want to be that girl. The one who begs for something she knows she can’t get. It’s like I’m asking a boy I like on a date and he says no, but I don’t listen, and I just keep asking and asking like the answer will be di erent. I feel…pathe c.”

I don’t ever want to make her feel like that.

“You’re not pathe c, Lil,” I manage to say, my throat swollen. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. I want to take her pain away, but the irony is that I’ve caused it.

“I think, Lily,” Allison says, “you’re going to have to start understanding that when Lo tells you to stop, it’s not rejec on. It’s a form of love. I know that’s hard to grasp, especially since you both have done things completely opposite.”

Lily lets out a short nod. It won’t be easy for her to just believe Dr. Banning’s advice. I have the same problem. Our brains are wired a li le di erently than everyone else. But I’m willing to ride out this rollercoaster with her—un l we’re both free from misery.

“Now let’s talk about your restric ons and the le er I sent home with you,” Allison says.

“We call it the blacklist,” Lily tells her. “But I didn’t read it. I gave it to my sister to give to Lo, and we agreed that it’s be er if I don’t know. Now… I’m kind of star ng to regret that.” She turns to me. “Do you think I should read it?”

Allison beats me to it. “Actually, Lily, I think it’s a great idea that you haven’t read it. It shows support on Lo’s end and trust on yours. It also gives you a chance to relax about limita ons.”

“How am I supposed to relax when all I can think about is what’s been blacklisted?”

“If you do read it, wouldn’t you s ll be thinking about what sexual ac vi es have been banned?”

Lily’s face falls. “I guess.”

“Why don’t you try this way for a while then,” Allison suggests. She looks to her clock. “The last thing I want to discuss are fears. This rela onship is new for the both of you, and I think it would be helpful if you told each other one of your fears by it.”

Lily’s lips snap closed, so I take the opportunity to go rst. For her.

“Well…” I say and quickly realize I haven’t thought this through. My fears? I have plenty. Lily chea ng. Me, drinking. Both of us fucking up un l we can’t see straight. “I’m scared that…”

Lily turns to face me, and I am lost for a minute in her eyes. I suddenly realize that I’m scared of everything. Of losing the only girl I’ve ever loved. Of having her secret voiced to the whole world and watching her disintegrate from the repercussions. She’s already so small and fragile, something like that would kill her, I think.

But Lily and I made a decision not to tell Allison about the threatening texts. It’s too dangerous when we don’t know who’s sending them. And partly, the situa on feels new and raw, and talking about it is like pressing on an infected wound.

“Lo,” Allison urges at my silence.

“I’m scared,” I start again, “that there’s going to be a point where you become angry and bi er and resen ul every me I tell you to stop, that you realize someone else can give you what you want.”

Lily’s head whips from side to side, like I’m so wrong. That kind of reac on feels good.

“No one else could ever give me what I want,” she breathes. “I only want you.”

I hold onto the words, even if we both know they’re not completely true. She wants to fuck. She wants the high of a climax the same way I want to drown in a bo le of bourbon. I want the rush, the ush and the ride to purgatory and back. We are not each other’s rst wants and needs. I am second to her. And she is second to me.

I want that to change.

I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she doesn’t smile because she knows it’s her turn.

“Lily?” Allison asks.

Lil keeps her eyes on me, and I give her an encouraging smile. “I’m scared,” she says, “that you’re going to hate being on some sort of sex schedule and hate being barred from your own pleasure. It’s not fair to you, and you’ll nd someone who will make you feel be er than I can.”

My mouth opens in surprise. I didn’t ever think she was worried about that. I didn’t even believe it could be an op on. I love her beyond the great sex. “Lil—”

She interjects quickly, throwing up her hands. “What if I can’t ever give you a blow job?” she asks, a li le hysterical now. “I mean, what if that’s on the blacklist? That’s not right, Lo! You have needs too!”

I’m grinning and trying so hard not to laugh. It’s probably shi y that my smile has spread to new propor ons, but I can’t help it. Not when she’s freaking out over this.

“This isn’t funny!” she shouts, but her lips start to rise, mimicking mine. “Stop. I’m being serious.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t even pretend to sound apologe c, nor can I stop smiling. “It’s just cute.” She blushes, and it only makes me want to gather her in my arms and cage her against the couch. To take her right there. She would love that.

“Okay, well…I’m giving you a blow job a er this then,” she demands.

That almost gets me hard. I have to think about something else. Like the fact that Allison is si ng right here. “How about I let you know when I want one,” I rephrase. I’ve read the blacklist, and while it doesn’t exclude blow jobs, it does have certain s pula ons. In fact, I think Lily would be genuinely surprised by what it actually says.

Lil narrows her eyes. “You’re just going to keep telling me later un l later becomes a year.”

“Within the week,” I say, my eyes ligh ng up. Only with my girlfriend do I have to basically nego ate her out of giving me head.

Her forehead wrinkles, like it does when she’s thinking hard. A er a moment, she looks to me and nods. “Deal.”

Allison pipes in. “That’s good, really good. You two are communica ng very well with each other and le ng your voices be heard. What I want you both to work on is ge ng your sex lives to a point where they don’t interfere with rela onships, school, jobs, or even daily ac vi es. I know in the past you two had a very ac ve sexual rou ne.”

Ac ve doesn’t describe what we were doing. When we both were in the lowest of the low, we rarely even le the bedroom. It was an all-consuming a air. Waking up. Drinking. Fucking. Sleeping. Occasionally ea ng. It was both the best and worst me of my life.

“I think you’re each ready to make a change,” Allison con nues. “And that begins now.”

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

AFTER MY STATS EXAM, I get another in ammatory text. This me Unknown has become a bit more crea ve and called me a tramp and a cocksucker. It’s a li le ironic that I just begged Lo in therapy to let me give him head. But other than that, these texts are star ng to unravel me. Whoever said that s cks and stones will break bones but words never hurt have obviously never been teased or insulted.

We’re mee ng Connor today to talk about the private inves gator’s discoveries. I planned to bring up the new messages with Lo and Connor, but a er the Mason incident in the parking deck, I don’t think revealing my texts will do anything other than enrage Lo. And I don’t want him to Hulk Smash anything or drive him to drink. Hopefully Connor has a be er lead on the guy and we can gure out what he wants.

I throw my backpack onto my bed and rush to the bathroom, needing to at least x my hair before we leave. When I swing the door open, I nd Lo by the sink, twis ng the cap onto a pill bo le. It must be Antabuse. He told me he was taking meds that will make him sick if he drinks alcohol. I’m more proud of him than he knows.

“You ready?” I ask, trying not to make the pills a big deal. I look into the mirror and nearly die at my hair. I pulled an all-nighter to memorize those old exam ques ons. Taking a shower dropped on my priority list. My hair is greasy and at and looks kind of gross.

“Just about.” Lo opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a s ck of deodorant. I make a bold decision and turn on the sink faucet. Then I lean over the marble edge, trying my best to s ck my head in the basin and underneath the surge of water.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lo asks as he simultaneously rolls the s ck under his armpits. He’s shirtless, and I really can’t stare too long.

“Washing my hair,” I tell him. I pull some wet strands through my

ngers, and I’m about to squirt some hand soap into my palm.

“That’s not shampoo,” Lo says quickly.

“What are you, the soap police? It’ll work.” I reach for the bo le again.

“Wait,” he says. I li my head up a bit and move some sopping strands out of my face. He fumbles around in the shower and then closes the glass door on his way out, a bo le of Herbal Essence in his clutch. I hold out my hand while twis ng my neck to avoid dripping all over the counter.

“You’re going to create a tsunami in here,” he says, pushing me back to the sink. My stomach hits the edge of the counter, and I bend again, losing sight to my wall of hair. Then I feel his hands on my head, rubbing the shampoo into my scalp. Oh.

This feels nice.

His ngers knead in and out, running up and down, and even pressing against the back of my neck. I never thought that a head massage could feel so damn good.

I s e a moan, but the pleasured noise escapes as soon as he closes

the space between us. His body melds right up against my ass. We haven’t done anything except missionary since he returned from rehab, and I’m star ng to become paranoid that anal is on that blacklist. I want it. Right now, I think. I’m probably in the minority of girls who enjoy that posi on. But I like the ghtness. It’s a di erent kind of climax, and I can’t deny how much I want it to happen.

“Lo.” My voice comes out hoarse and wan ng.

He scoots back from me, air replacing his body. The rejec on hurts, but I try to remember what we talked about in therapy. I have to get a grip.

“How was your exam?” Lo asks, probably trying to distract me.

“Not bad.” I have yet to come clean about Sebas an supplying me with old exams. I don’t think Lo would care that I’m semi-chea ng, but I don’t think he’d approve that Sebas an is embedding me in his scheming ways either. It’s be er to avoid that conversa on.

“So Sebas an is actually helping?” he asks in disbelief. He returns his body right behind me again, and the pressure on my ass ignites wild thoughts.

“Yeah,” I mumble. I can’t ask him for sex. He’ll say no. I have to try and relax so he doesn’t move away, so I can revel in the fact that this—him behind me—feels too good for words. I have to believe that this is enough…that I don’t need more.

“So you think you passed?”

“Ummm…” Focus. “I think I made an A.”

He stops massaging my head, but he doesn’t move his body o mine. “Did you cheat?”

“What?” I squeak. I’m about to li my head, but he puts a hand on my back and pushes me down so I don’t drip water all over the oor.

“You did. You cheated.” His shock outweighs all other sen ments.

“I did not!” I defend.

“Hold on.” Lo grabs a cup and lls it with water. “Close your eyes.”

I shut them ght as he starts washing away the shampoo suds, thick tension lling between us. It doesn’t help that his frontal area is now grinding up against my ass.

“So what did he want in exchange for helping you cheat?” Lo asks.

I barely process this ques on. I’m a terrible mul -tasker, and right now I juggle my nefarious thoughts with rubbing soap from my eyes. There is no room to answer him properly. “Hmm?” I spread my legs apart, not enough that he’ll no ce.

At least, I didn’t think he would.

He hooks my ankle with his foot and pins my legs back together like it’s nothing, like this is our new rou ne. “Sebas an would want something in return,” Lo says, his voice roughening as he pictures a not-so innocent bargain.

“He’s not helping me cheat,” I say again. He pours more water over my head, and I spit out a mouthful of soap.

“Sorry, love.” His sweetness lasts only a second when I open my legs again and he pushes them together. “If he didn’t help you cheat, what did he do?” Lo pauses as he wrings out my hair. “You do realize that having someone else take the exam for you cons tutes as chea ng.”

“I know,” I snap. He grabs a towel and starts massaging my scalp again. I close my eyes to bask in how it feels. Ugh, I can’t even hate him while he does this.

He takes o the towel, and I nally stand up straight, my hair messy and wet around my face. But at least it’s clean. Lo is s ll pressed up against me, and his hands even rest along my hips. Our eyes meet through the mirror, and I see the strength in them. “We can’t,” he says. “I’d love to fuck you right now, but we have to leave soon for the mee ng.”

I nod. It’s not a healthy me, at least not for me.

I spin around to face him fully, and he backs away from me. Enough that my eyes drop to his pants. “How are you not hard right now?” I ask accusingly.

“I was just washing your hair,” he says like I’m being silly, like that simple task wasn’t sexual at all. I frown. Wasn’t it? Or was the en re thing all in my perverted mind?

He lts my chin with his nger, and I look back up into his eyes. “I spent three years as your fake boyfriend,” he says. “I’ve had prac ce resis ng you.”

Ohhhhh. I like that answer be er. I think he knows it too. Lo leans down and kisses me deeply, lling my lungs with his breath. I grab onto the back of his neck and reciprocate fully. We stay like that for at least a minute, but he retracts before we can go any further.

My eyes are glued to his pink, wet lips. My brain is only compu ng one thing: Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

“How did you make an A? Or think you made an A?” he asks, popping my happy thoughts.

“Huh?” Can I play dumb? It should be easier for me, considering I’m rela vely average on the smart scale. Lo doesn’t buy it. He gives me a look and I crumble under his penetra ng stare. “You can’t tell Rose.”

“So you are chea ng.” He realizes that Rose wouldn’t care how I aced the exam unless I ventured to the dark side of academia.

“Not technically…”

His brows jump. “So what…you half-cheated? What does that even mean? You cheated on the rst page but not the last?”

I hold up my hands. “Whoa, can I explain?”

“Please.”

“Sebas an gave me old exams, and I just memorized all the answers. I didn’t bring the tests to class or copy the answers on my hand. I’m just bea ng the system. There’s no harm in that.”

Lo takes a moment to process this, and just when I think he’s going to yell at me, he asks, “What did you make on the other exams before you did this?”

“44 and 29.” Two horrible grades that I didn’t think humanly possible. Actually, that’s a lie, I’ve made a 7 on a test before—and I think the Penn professor was just being nice about that too. I reread my exam and it sounded like a planetary alien took the test and wrote in a di erent language. Honestly, the professor asked me if I was dyslexic. I couldn’t really tell him the truth. I’m so exhausted from all the crazy sex I’m having that I can barely process words let alone sentences. You’re lucky I even showed up to this class, Mister.

Lo is s ll thinking, so I add, “I’ve been ge ng C’s in my other classes. Sta s cs is the hardest for me.”

“You’re right. It’s not really chea ng,” he says. I can’t help my smile, my face lling with glee. “But…” I don’t like buts…scratch that, I remember that I do like bu s with double T’s. Like my bu . His cock.

Lo waves a hand in front of my face. “Did you hear me?”

“I lost you on but.”

“Jesus, you really want anal sex,” he says with a grin. I open my mouth to ask him for it, and he quickly says, “No, love. Not right now.” Boo.

Lo con nues without missing a beat, “So Sebas an gave you old exams. What did you give him?”

“Nothing,” I say with a shrug. “He said he was doing it because I’m Rose’s sister and…” I taper o , knowing this is where Lo will get pissed.

“And…” Lo prods.

“And he told me that he doesn’t like Connor and Rose together, and I think he may try to break up their rela onship. Anyway…” I clear my throat. “I can’t warn her about Sebas an, or else—”

“He’ll keep the exams,” Lo nishes and then nods.

Red hot shame lls me, and this doesn’t even have anything to do with sex.

Lo says nothing more. He takes a long me to process everything internally.

My nerves gather at his silence. “I need those exams, Lo. You know I need them. What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” Lo mu ers. He rubs the back of his neck.

I shi uneasily. “Connor is the rst real friend that we’ve ever had, and I’m standing over on Team Sebas an… unwillingly.”

“We’re going to have to think about it.” He stares hard at the oor, plo ng. “For right now, let’s just keep this between us.”

“Are you sure?”

Lo meets my gaze, recognizing the ash of guilt in my eyes. He pulls me closer to his chest and runs a hand down the back of my head in comfort. “Your priority is to pass this class. Try not to think about anything else.”

“Connor—”

“He’ll be ne for now. He’s the most con dent, self-assured guy in the world. He can handle Sebas an without either of us.”

I think he’s right, but we both also know it’s not the moral path—the one that good friends take. Being sober isn’t our only challenge. Becoming human, func oning people in this big vast world means making friendships and sustaining the very few that we already have.

There is no college course to “be a be er friend” or “be a less shi y human being.” Or else I would be signed up for both.

We’re sel sh, in every sense of the word.

I just don’t want to fracture our friendships because of it.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

THE HARDEST PART about being in a commi ed rela onship with Lo isn’t losing the sex with strangers. It’s losing that moment where I become someone else. Where the shy, insecure Lily turns into a con dent vixen. Where I’m completely and u erly in control and as my conquest looks at me with a heavy-lidded gaze, he knows it too. I was someone else during those moments. Someone be er maybe.

The longer I’m monogamous, the more I forget what being that con dent, brazen Lily feels like. It’s like par ng with a best friend for so long that their face becomes a blurry haze. I don’t miss her enough to cheat on Lo. I just wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

But I know who I never wanted to meet.

Sadie.

Connor’s evil, orange tabby cat glares at me from across his apartment living room. All those grumpy ki es on Tumblr are not just photoshopped. Sadie is proof that felines can contort their face with such hot-tempered malice.

Lo and I sit on Connor’s dark green leather sofa, his apartment decorated like a bachelor pad. Instead of red Solo cups lined on the bar, he has an array of expensive liquors locked away in a glass cabinet. Lo glanced at them once or twice, and Connor ushered us to a seat where our back is turned to the alcohol. That pissed Lo o a li le. He doesn’t want to be babied.

A ernoon light streams through windows that ll the en re back wall and the adjacent one. From oor to ceiling, Connor has a perfect view of Philly’s old brick architecture. Like most expensive bachelor pads, Connor has art décor that makes very li le sense to me.

There’s just a porcelain ball sta oned where a chair should be. I can’t tell if it’s an empty ower pot or a vase. There’s no hole for lilies—okay that came out wrong. But really, it seems silly to have a ball thing just taking up space. I guess that’s why they call it nonfunc onal art.

The oors are concrete, but in the living area, he has a nice cream rug that Sadie apparently loves. Because she has yet to step o it. She struts in front of the couch, back and forth, her white tail wagging mischievously.

I have my eye on you, I say with a narrowed gaze.

Despite feeling violated by Sadie, I am rela vely hopeful today. I want everything resolved with this blackmailer, evil-texter, or whatever the hell he is. I want to move on and focus on ge ng healthy.

The bell rings, and Connor opens the door. “You’re late,” he says atly, in a Connor Cobalt, I dislike you tone that very rarely presents itself.

Ryke’s jaw hardens. “I’m the captain of the track team,” he says. “I can’t leave prac ce rst.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to do anything rst,” Connor retorts.

Lo and I exchange hesita on. Something tells me that Connor is not Ryke Meadows’ number one fan. And normally, I’d be suspicious that maybe Connor knows Ryke is behind all of this—that Lo’s brother is the one we should be wary of. But their li le heated looks began around the

me Ryke dissed Connor in public. It wasn’t one sole event. It was many

things. Like Ryke calling Connor an ass kisser in front of his track buddies. Ryke can say those things in private, in front of us, and Connor just shrugs, but hur ng his reputa on in public crossed a line.

Ryke looks about ready to push through the doorway.

But Connor leads him in before Lo’s brother becomes physical. Connor sits on a bu oned leathere e chair across from us, but Ryke plops right next to Lo on the couch. And I’m reminded that my sister isn’t here to be on my team. Her schedule is too hec c to make the drive to Philly, so unfortunately, I’ll have to carry on without her.

I didn’t realize how much I relied on her support un l I felt that uncomfortable dread when she told me she couldn’t come.

Sadie circles the co ee table, but her harsh gaze never deters from me. “Connor,” I say, “I think your cat hates me.”

Connor picks her up in his arms. “She doesn’t hate you.”

Oh good. That’s one less enemy.

“She just hates women.”

Or maybe not.

Ryke lets out an incensed snort. “I thought Rose was making that fucking shit up.”

“When you string together curse words, I go deaf a li le in my right ear,” Connor tells him. “What was that?”

Lo is trying really hard not to laugh, and I bite my lip to suppress a smile. It’s too easy to pick on Ryke, especially since the guy takes very li le to heart.

Ryke ips him o , mu ers more swear words under his breath, and slouches in his chair. “Let’s get on with this.”

Connor strokes Sadie, and even though she purrs, she s ll wears a mask of evilness—directed right at me.

“I have bad news,” Connor says, con rming that he is indeed the cat-stroking-villain in this scenario. “My PI tracked down the phone number. It was a disposable, so we have no way of knowing the iden ty of the person on the other line.”

Lo groans into his hands, hunching forward with his elbows on his legs.

I go the opposite route, leaning back into the couch like a dal wave just struck my chest. What do we do now? “So should I prepare to be in the tabloids soon?” My voice comes out way too so . Even the thought sends my heart into a dive pa ern. I can’t think about it without tears brimming. The shame that I’ll bring to my family…

Lo straightens up and laces his ngers with mine. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“Sure,” Connor says. “But I need both of you to open up about things you haven’t been willing to share. I need your top suspects that you believe could be threatening you. I can give those to my inves gator, and he’ll check them out.”

“That can’t be too hard,” Ryke says.

Lo glares at the rug. Yeah, it took me hours just to go through our yearbook and circle faces—only to decide that over half of the student body hated Lo. And that was just prep school. We haven’t even factored college into the equa on.

“Seriously?” Ryke’s brows rise. “How many fucking people did you piss o , Lo?”

“I wasn’t well liked,” he retorts. “We all can’t be the captain of sports teams.”

Ryke rolls his eyes.

“You can’t be that surprised,” I chime in. “You met us when Lo was being cornered by four guys wan ng to beat his ass.”

“People get upset over the stupidest things,” Lo says, defending himself.

Connor lts his head. “Didn’t you steal a bo le of alcohol that cost forty grand?”

“I didn’t steal,” Lo says. “I drank from the bo le and set it back. And it was my birthday.”

“How does your birthday strengthen your argument?” Connor asks. “Unless they knew it was your birthday. Did they?” He knows they didn’t.

Lo glares. “Shut the fuck up.” His words come out lightly and they actually make Connor smile.

“What about those guys at the Halloween party?” I ask Ryke. “Do you think they could s ll be mad at Lo?”

“Yeah, what’s the name of the guy who was really pissed?” Lo asks.

“Ma ,” Ryke says. We all stay silent, recalling the moment where Ma and his brothers chased Connor’s limousine down the street as we sped away. He’s also on the track team with Ryke. “I don’t know if he’s s ll angry or not.”

“How could you not know?” Lo snaps. “You’re the captain. You see them almost every day. Fuck, you just ran li le loops with them.”

Connor tries really hard not to grin, but if he wanted to hide his smile fully, I’m pre y sure he could. He’s de nitely gloa ng in Ryke’s misery. I kind of like it.

“You run li le loops with me,” Ryke retorts, dodging the accusa on.

“Only at your request. If it was up to me, I’d be running down the street, alone.” But there are bars along the sidewalk, and Ryke worries that he’ll be tempted to run inside.

Lo’s narrowed gaze pierces Ryke, and both speak through their hard features. Lo is egging Ryke to say the worst things to him—to bring up his addic on. But Ryke is not willing to go there.

“Look,” Ryke says, “the guys on the team aren’t going to tell me if they despise my half-brother who just spent three months in rehab.”

Oh. He has a point.

“Should I put him on the list?” Connor asks, scrolling through his electronic tablet. Sadie tries to sit on it, not liking his a en on divided, but he moves the tablet to the armrest and she curls back onto his lap.

Lo pries his gaze from Ryke. “Yeah, sure.” I think he wants someone to blame him again for that mistake—to yell and make him feel that pain, as though he deserves the assault. His father would do just that. But Lo needs to realize that’s not the right way to deal with things. He shouldn’t be punished every day for something that happened months ago. No one died. No one got hurt.

“Let’s start with the people who have the biggest grudge against both of you and go from there,” Connor advises.

Lo is staring at the oor again, his mind wandering in a thousand di erent places. I’m the one who poured over the yearbook, so I know be er than him at this point.

“Aaron Wells,” I start out. Both Ryke and Lo s en. They did something

to Aaron, clearly, but I try not to think about it. “And maybe Mason Nix…” A er the parking lot asco, I think there’s a lot more resentment there than we realized.

“I have to give my PI mo ves to put with the names. So you’re going to have to give me some details.”

Lo sighs heavily. “You want to tell the stories?” he asks me. “I can if you’re not up to it.” But by his sharp jaw, I can tell he wants to share about as much as I do.

“How about equal opportunity,” I say. “I call Wells.”

Lo has lost a li le color in his cheeks. He nods again, and now I regret my choice.

“Never mind, I can talk about Mason—”

“No you take Wells.”

I pause. “Okay,” I say in a small voice. I feel bad. Like I could ooze into the couch and not come back out.

“Aaron Wells,” Connor says, his eyes ligh ng up in recogni on of the name. “He a ended the Fizzle event in January?”

“Yep,” I say. Without Lo to accompany me, my mother called Aaron Wells to be my escort (not the pros tute kind). She didn’t know that he hated Lo or that he was hell-bent on making my me at the party miserable.

Lo turns to stone by my side, no longer huggable. He’s upset that he wasn’t there for me, but I would never want him to leave rehab on my account.

I begin the story as best I can.

Aaron Wells. Tall, brown-haired (almost blond), blue-eyed god of the Dalton Academy lacrosse team. He bled blue and shit gold. Even in ninth grade, he was held in high-esteem, a natural athlete that would grace our school with its rst Lacrosse State Championship. Guys wanted to be him and girls wanted to fuck him. But Lo was the one guy who didn’t care about being swathed in Aaron’s circle of popularity.

In ninth grade, Lo and I denied our problems to ourselves and each other. Even a er we had sex together for the rst me, we just pretended it never happened. We were fourteen—naïve and lost and trying to make ourselves feel be er.

I remember the day a er really well. I stu ed my books into my locker, and Lo’s nearness caused my chest to ghten. That part was normal. He would wait for me with a strong arm against the dark blue locker, loosening the collar of his e on his white bu on-down. He hated that prep school uniform, even if he looked sexy in it. He would linger by my side, wan ng to walk me to class. He reeked of bourbon, and he wore sunglasses indoors to help with his tender eyes. Back then, before college, he felt more of the e ects from a night of binging.

“Did you do that poetry assignment for Lit?” Lo asked.

“What?” My eyes widened. I must have forgo en. Not uncommon. Though, the teachers usually took pity on me. A er being graced with Rose’s supreme brain, they thought I was the stupid Calloway girl.

“It’s ne, I have you covered,” Lo said. I narrowed my eyes at him, skep cal. No way. “Roses are red. Violets are blue…” Just great. I’m going to fail. “…and if a jock asks, don’t let him fuck you.” He nished o the poem as his eyes wandered ahead. A group of lacrosse players passed us, Aaron leading the pack.

“Advice in a poem?” I said with a smile. “You’re outdoing yourself, Loren Hale.” My amusement was short lived though. Aaron detached from his pack and approached us. Lo s ened and I tried to ignore the guy as he

towered over me.

“You must be Loren,” Aaron said. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you.”

“It’s Lo,” he clari ed.

Aaron barely blinked and con nued talking as if Lo hadn’t u ered a word. “I’m hos ng a pre-season bash at my place.”

“That’s cute,” Lo said with a wry smile, “not many people throw par es to celebrate spring.”

“The lacrosse season,” Aaron deadpanned, eyes cold.

“The meteorologists are inven ng new seasons now? That’s impressive.”

I should have seen that coming, considering Lo wasn’t in the best mood. Not a er we had sex and ignored the event. Not a er he guzzled straight whiskey from his ask on the ride here.

Aaron had kept his composure. “You can bring your girlfriend if you’d like.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Lo said.

At the admi ance, I turned around from my locker, books in my arms. Aaron sized me up, not crudely, and when his eyes landed on mine, he looked at me with such intense pity. Like he felt bad that I had to endure Lo.

Aaron didn’t understand us. No one did.

“You’re de nitely invited,” Aaron said directly to me. “And I can introduce you to some nice guys.”

“Yeah, she’s not looking for a nice guy,” Lo said. He was right. If I wanted someone who would take me on a date, treat me right, and call the next morning—I’d date someone from Dalton. But I wanted the lay. The type of guy who could sleep with me and forget about it as soon as we le the room. I wanted easy. Nice guys were complicated.

I spoke up before Aaron could. “It’s okay. I don’t go to par es. I mean, Dalton par es.” Rule number one: Do not have sex with boys from Dalton. Otherwise everyone would have gured out that I slept around.

Aaron frowned. “That’s kind of weird.”

“Thanks?” I said before turning to Lo, ready to leave.

“You both realize this is going to be the party of the year,” Aaron said in confusion, his pride nally star ng to ru e. Yes, Aaron, we had been serious about not wan ng to go. Though, I was posi ve it would be one hell of a party. Giant punch bowls. Neon lights. Good drugs. Maybe even a famous DJ. But I would choose to miss it all just to avoid being gossiped about the next morning.

Lo met my gaze, and I could see him cracking. Probably under the assump on that there would be good liquor too. I gave him a look. Dalton par es were my bane. The en re student popula on ocked to them, and so I would have to spend my me in the corner, trying to avoid leering gazes and making sure Lo didn’t pass out.

He gave me those big pleading eyes, and I realized he was going to the party with or without me. So I just nodded.

Lo turned to Aaron and ashed a fake smile. “We’ll see you Friday.”

Aaron layered on his own mock happiness. “Perfect.”

Only it hadn’t been perfect. It was one of the worst par es in the history of par es. So bad, in fact, that the event blacklisted us from any social func on related to Dalton. And I didn’t even a end Aaron’s stupid blowout.

I wasn’t the one who opened all of Wells’ expensive booze. I didn’t grab a lacrosse s ck and stumble around, somehow ending up in the wine cellar. I didn’t take out all my frustra on on two-hundred-year-old bo les that fractured and broke. I didn’t drown the cellar and my pain in a pool of red.

But Lo sure as hell did.

And I should have been there. Some mes I wonder if that would have changed the outcome. I could have stopped Lo, and then maybe Aaron and his friends wouldn’t have hated him so much.

The wine-cellar debacle started their rivalry.

Then it mushroomed from there. First with silly stu , like slapping Lo’s textbooks from his hands. But then three of them cornered Lo, about to grab onto his arms and legs and stu him in a locker. Lo ran before they could touch him. He was good at that. Running away.

Lo has admi ed to me, and only me, that it was his fault the en re feud started in the rst place, but he just didn’t know how to end it once it began. Like dominos that kept tumbling down and down and down. He wasn’t big enough to step away, to back o . He had taken too much shit at home to let someone else run over him.

Over the next four years in school, they passively hated each other and some mes the passivity turned to sts, but Lo was quick to dodge all a acks. It wasn’t un l our senior year that everything changed. I think, in part, Aaron had become red of how teachers fawned over Lo and how he seemed to have special treatment that extended beyond athletes.

I was seventeen and in a fake rela onship with Lo. For the rst me, Aaron realized that there was a way to reach Lo without him running away.

He could mess with me.

Aaron started following me to class, and then a week later, he blocked me against a wall, ever so casually, with his lacrosse player friends in tow. To everyone else, they probably looked like they stood there for a quick chat, but whenever I met Aaron’s eyes, I saw only hate.

The fourth me he cornered me, I was in the library, trying desperately to nd a book on Renaissance Art. Secluded in the back, between two book cases, I picked out a red spine and was ready to hightail it to lunch. When I looked up, my exit had been obstructed by a six-foot guy with athle c muscles and hardened brows.

Hatred is an animal you feed, and I imagined that a er four years, Aaron’s became plump and bloated. The seemingly nice guy who invited me to a party my freshman year of prep school had turned cold and mean. At least towards me.

His eyes were dark, and he stepped forward. My heart thudded against my chest as I stumbled back. He con nued his stride and my back hit the wall.

“I have to get to lunch,” I said in a small voice. I didn’t know what he was going to do. He’d already laid a st into Lo. (He got a week’s suspension and Lo got a Friday deten on), so I thought maybe he was preparing to hit me…or at least scare me.

Mission accomplished. I was terri ed.

He came closer, not saying a word. I think that was the worst part, the unspeaking, unfeeling of it all.

He raised his arms, pu ng his hands on a Student Elec on poster beside my head, imprisoning me. His warm breath burned my neck, and it was then, at that moment, that I had the impulse. I wanted out. Away. Gone. I dipped down, small and quick enough to slip below his arm. I ran out of the library and then right out of school.

I didn’t want to tell Lo what had happened, but Aaron’s advances only became worse. One day when I was driving home, he tailed me with his lacrosse buddies. I drove straight to Lo’s and they sped o . I kept my mouth shut, but I spent most of the school day stuck to Lo’s side. No one harassed me when he was around.

I usually tried to skip when he skipped. But one abnormal day, I actually slept at my own house, and he didn’t tell me he was going to be late.

I tried to focus on the task at hand. Get your books. Go to class. Done. I tugged my World History book from the locker and the hardback spine

lted the mirror on the inside door.

And then I felt two hands on my waist.

I jumped: feet and heart. Then I spun around and Lo’s eyes were wide.

“Hey girlfriend,” he emphasized, seeing as how we were in our pretend rela onship.

I wanted to smile, but I could barely catch my breath.

His face fell in a wave of concern, and he put his hands on my cheeks. “Heyheyhey,” he said quickly. “Take a breath, Lil.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t realize Aaron had unraveled me un l that point. Game. Set. Match, I thought. He won.

But I had forgo en who my “fake” boyfriend was.

“Lil, what’s wrong?” His voice was heavy and serious.

I buried my head into his shirt and he held me there for a very long moment. We skipped class so I could tell him the truth, and it poured out of me like a ood.

“I’m going to x this,” Lo said.

I believed it too. He called Aaron and threatened his college career if he didn’t stop harassing me. With the Hale name, Lo had plenty of contacts and one phone call from him or his father, and Aaron’s collegiate career would be over.

Aaron called his blu . And then Lo called the college.

So Aaron Wells was reduced to his safety school, losing out the lacrosse stardom.

He stopped following me a er that…

Well, un l the Fizzle party pre y recently (where he tried to scare me again). And not soon a er, we received those texts. Maybe only a couple months separa ng the two events.

Connor’s normal placid expression has been slightly overtaken by a wrinkled forehead and the hand that covers his mouth. I never thought I could shock Connor Cobalt—or that he’d let me see his surprise.

“In defense,” Lo says, “Aaron Wells and I have hated each other since ninth grade. That’s like an era of hate. None of the others are like that.”

“We can only hope,” Connor says.

“And our dad helped you tear up this kid’s future?” Ryke asks.

“What can I say,” Lo says with a bi er smile, “it’s how we bonded.”

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LOREN HALE

I COULDN’T TALK about Mason. Neither could Lily. I think that one was too fresh for us. I men oned what happened in brief to Ryke over the phone one day—about the parking deck and a li le bit about the past—so I told him to just ll in Connor and that was that.

My head weighs a fucking ton and I could use a glass of whiskey. Hell, I’d se le for a beer at this point.

But we drive right on back to Princeton a erwards. A couple mes, I pull over at a gas sta on, telling Lily I have to pee. I avoid grabbing any six-packs in the foggy glass fridges, but the second me I park the car, Lily catches on and follows me into the convenience store. She nds me staring ques onably at a case of Samuel Adams. Lily talks me down for a good ten minutes, telling me that beer tastes disgus ng, that breaking my sobriety is not worth the small, insigni cant buzz. She’s right, but I just want to forget everything for one extended moment.

I want all of the memories to shut down so that I can sleep. But everything I did—every mistake, every fucked up word that spilled from my lips—replays on repeat. And I can’t take it back. But I do have the power to drown it all out.

We drive again. Towards home. And I forget about the booze. I try to focus on things that I can do that won’t involve alcohol.

“Maybe I should call Aaron,” I say to Lily. My hands ghten on the steering wheel. “Apologize or something.” What if he didn’t do anything? What if I made it worse by going to his house and threatening him? My father’s way to do things—it could be wrong. It’s all I know. And it’s what put me in this place to begin with.

I have so many regrets. I don’t believe anyone who says they don’t. How can you live life making mistakes and never wish you could take one back?

I destroyed the guy’s wine cellar. If a person did that to me, I wouldn’t be just a li le cked o . I would despise them. And I don’t have much of an excuse. I was just…I was hur ng, and I felt like I was screaming and no one could hear me. I was in the wrong, I get it, but my ac ons never gave him permission to terrorize Lily. For that, I just can’t forgive him.

Lily runs her ngers over my hand that holds the gear shi . “I’m not sure that will help. He may not accept it.”

If Aaron is the guy threatening us, we may be fucked.

We roll up to our gate, and I punch the security number into the keypad. We drive through, parking in the empty garage. Rose is late, not surprising with how much she juggles. When we walk into the house, I ick on the lights, half-expec ng Lily to turn around and ask me if we can fuck.

She usually does.

Tonight’s di erent. Maybe because I openly confessed to thinking about a drink. Maybe she doesn’t want to put me in a posi on where I have to tell her no.

Lily plops down on the couch like its normal for her to be more interested in the television than the bedroom. “I think they’re playing Thor on HBO,” she says, leaning over to grab the remote. My eyes drop to her knees, squeezed ght together. Yeah, she’s struggling.

A er pouring through all those memories, we both deserve a release. I mentally le through the therapist’s blacklist. I’ve reread it enough mes that every word is engrained in my head.

No masturba on.

No porn.

No public sex.

Stop when your partner stops. Helpful ps: Start with ming your sessions and have a set hour dedicated to sex. For the rst few months s ck to posi ons that won’t elicit increased arousal a er a climax. (This is subjec ve and you will have to experiment to discover what triggers you to keep going.)

Only engage in sex when both you and your partner want to. Helpful

p: Let your partner choose the me.

Healthy amounts – sex cannot interfere with daily rou nes. Helpful p: Keep to morning and night schedules.

I know Lily thinks there are s pula ons like banning anal and blow jobs. I’ve had lengthy conversa ons on the phone with Allison, discussing how far I should take Lily. We s ll have to be in mate, and banning sexual posi ons won’t help that. So Allison and I agreed that the goal is to get Lily to a point where she doesn’t expect sex.

Not asking me for sex is a good rst step, and I want to reward her for it. But I also fear that she’ll catch on to this. Over me she may pretend to be uninterested so she’ll get a lay out of me. The point is to make her stop thinking and wan ng sex—not devising strategies to get it.

Considering my mind circulates around hun ng for a bo le of something alcoholic, I understand it’s not a simple task.

“Ah, yes!” Lily says excitedly. “We didn’t miss the part with Sif.” Her eyes icker to me brie y before they return to the TV. “You think we should go to Comic-Con this year? We can dress up as Thor and Sif.”

I sit down next to her on the couch, giving her a cushion worth of distance. I catch the instant frown in her eyes but it disappears when she focuses on the movie.

“I don’t think I’d look good as a blond,” I tell her.

She appraises my hair and then her eyes drop, lingering as she takes in my other features. She’s stared at me so hard for the past couple weeks that I’m fairly certain in a year she could recall every freckle by memory. Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I… yeah, umm… blond… no,” she stammers before turning back to the movie.

“How about we go as Loki and Sif?” I suggest.

She hesitates a moment before shaking her head. Her eyes meet mine again, and this me they stay right there. “How about Hellion and X-23?”

She never wants to dress up in the X-23 costume. It’s skimpy black leather that exposes her en re midri , and I prac cally have to beg her to cosplay my favorite mutant couple. She’s o ering this to me, and for some reason I have the sudden urge to take her right here.

So I do.

I bridge the distance between us and my lips nd hers.

Her surprise s ens her shoulders and freezes her arms, and I edge her

mouth open, slipping my tongue inside. She wakes up, her hands swooping around my neck. I smile against her so lips. My girlfriend is like a raunchy Sleeping Beauty, reanima ng from a deep-throated kiss.

I run my tongue along the base of her neck, and she begins to writhe underneath me. She’s unlike any girl I’ve ever been with. Li le things set her o as if her body is made of a thousand nerves. She responds to every touch and lick like they’re each the peak she wishes to reach.

Her hands y towards my pants, and I have to grab them before she does anything. A moan escapes her lips, and her spine curves, her body arching towards me. I li her up beneath her arms, and her legs instantly wrap around my waist. I press a strong kiss to her lips, inhaling the vanilla scent of her hair.

Even midway in the air, she starts to grind against me. She has to feel that I’m hard, but I need her to keep her hands o me. I have self-control, but it its away whenever she starts rubbing against my cock.

I set her down on the rug, the couch to our le . My lips slowly brush the top of her ear, my teeth barely skimming the tenderness of her skin. She lets out a sharp gasp.

“Easy, love,” I breathe. She se les again and I start, ever so slowly, undressing her. The light touch of the fabric sends her o as the shirt grazes up her belly and over her head. As I go for her jeans, she tries to sit up and touch me, but I put my hand on her shoulder, forcing her back to the oor again and give her a disapproving look.

She breathes heavily, and I wait to unbu on her un l she nods, accep ng that she must stay s ll.

When she does, I sh the bu on through the hole and slowly unzip. As I slide her jeans below her hips, down her thighs, I drink in her body and the way she responds to me. The li le cries, the twitches of her legs and the curl of her toes. Every mo on is lled with beauty that she won’t ever understand. It makes me aware of how alive she is.

A er tossing her jeans to the side, I kiss the tops of her breasts, and she shudders against me. I run my teeth playfully over her bra straps, and her chest rises and falls in quick succession, eager and wan ng.

“Lo,” she moans.

I s e a groan in my throat, and I unclip her bra, freeing her of the

clothing. And then I gently slip her pan es down and o her ankles. While doing so, I lightly brush my ngers across the wet spot between her legs, so brief and powerful that the sensa on immediately jolts her body. I have to remind her to stay s ll again.

“Lo, please,” she says, her voice raw and raspy.

I kiss those reddened lips, and then stand to my feet, leaving her bare and naked on the living room oor. Her eyes widen in horror, thinking I’m no longer going to fuck her.

“I’ll be right back, love,” I say quickly, wan ng that look to disappear from her face. “I have to get a condom…and lube.” I grin at this, and I wait a second to watch her expression ip.

Her whole face lights up with delight. “But… I thought…” she starts.

I’m already backing away towards the bedroom. My dick feels like it might explode any minute, and I can’t prolong wai ng much longer to get my own fucking release. Fear crosses me for a brief second, realizing I’m leaving her naked, horny, and alone.

Halfway up the stairs, she’s s ll watching me but her hands have edged closer and closer to the inside of her thighs. “Don’t fuck yourself,” I say roughly. “Or else I won’t fuck you.” It’s a threat I don’t like giving, considering my own arousal has almost peaked. I want to shove my cock inside her right now.

She nods eagerly, and I accept it, trying desperately to put faith in her. I just need her to be strong, but I know masturba on is one of her compulsions.

A er reaching the second oor, I enter the darkened bedroom and quickly fumble around the desk drawer, grabbing a pack of condoms and lube. I haven’t used up either in two weeks, which should be a record for us.

When I return to the living room, I nd Lily s ll lying on the rug but she covers her face with her hands. She’s concentra ng too hard to hear me come in, and I take the me to kick o my pants and pull o my shirt. I lie down beside her and rub the top of her head easily. Her hands slide down, exposing her face and her eyes and the look that says, fuck me now.

“Lo, I almost touched myself.”

I kiss her forehead and take one of her hands in mine. “But you didn’t.”

She shakes her head. “But I want to…so badly,” she admits. “I can’t remember what I feel like. Isn’t that weird? That’s weird, right? I mean it’s my body, but I’m not allowed to touch really, and I…I…”

Jesus Christ. I take her in my arms, and she buries her head into my chest, near tears. This is not going as planned, and I feel like it’s partly my fault. I shouldn’t have le her alone and given her the opportunity to crawl inside her head. Maybe I can x this.

“It’s okay, Lil,” I whisper. “If you want to touch yourself, just ask me.”

With her hand in mine, I guide it down her stomach, past her belly bu on and in between her legs. She gasps as I rub her ngers over her clit and then down farther, le ng her feel how wet she has become.

“Be er?” I ask, pulling her hand and glistening ngers back up to her chest.

She nods, her shoulders relaxing, and I kiss the base of her neck.

I turn her on her side and lie right against her back. I can almost see her start to smile.

I rip the condom package.

“Can I put it on you?” she asks hopefully, hearing the paper tear.

“If you can do it quickly,” I tell her, wan ng to be inside of her more than she probably even knows. She ips over to face me, and I hand her the condom. Her eyes drop to my cock and I watch her en re expression prac cally glow. Her happiness is easy to bring, which I suppose is the problem, but I relish in sending her body into shockwaves and seeing her face lit up like the city.

Not listening to me, she gently and slowly rolls the condom on my dick. I let out a heavy breath and then groan. Dear God. “Faster, Lil,” I demand.

Her eyes icker up, surprisingly, since it takes her great e ort to look anywhere but my dick at mes. She gives me a doe-eyed look and I can’t help but smile, yet I don’t give in. “Faster,” I repeat, stretching out the syllables.

She nishes rolling the condom up my sha and then reaches for the lube. I grab her wrist and mo on for her to turn around. I know she wants to be in control. I know she misses it. But she has to make me believe she can be on top and not get carried away. Right now, she’s not even close to being able to handle that type of posi on without going crazy.

Before she ips over, she bends down and places a so kiss on the head of my cock. Then she rolls onto her side, s cking out her ass for me.

I rub some lube on, and she squirms a li le, but I hold her steady. My cock throbs and I know I can’t hold out on going nice and slow. So when I have her ready, I thrust inside of her as fast and deep as I can without hur ng her.

She lets out a long pleasurable moan and begins to writhe again. But I hold her ght, one arm around her neck and the other around her waist, grabbing her breast as I start pumping inside of her. Every thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing through my cock and it feels too good to even stop for a second. I quicken my pace, her moans and half-screams perpetua ng my speed.

Within another few minutes, I can feel her reach her edge. I move faster and harder, closing my eyes as I try not to release. And a er my hand descends between her legs, her body convulses in waves of pleasure. She shakes with each intense tremor, and then her breath comes out ragged and heavy.

I pull out, s ll hard and aching, and toss the condom o . Her eyes are heavy, but she reaches out to me. Quickly, I roll her onto her back and grab her leg, bringing it up over my shoulder. The new posi on reinvigorates her energy and her eyes hit mine. With one swi mo on, I’m inside her soaked pussy and she’s bucking up her hips.

I start thrus ng harder, lling her deeply. My cock aches for release but I keep pulsing, keep feeding her needs. My free hand takes her chin and I lean down, our lips connec ng. I kiss her while I move in and out, in and out. I hit something and she breaks away from my mouth, grinning. I smile back and then press my nose up against her cheek as I push harder, my lips par ng once a noise catches. My hot breath on her neck, my hand across her lips, mu ing her sounds and heightening her arousal.

Everything I ever wanted is right here in my arms. I wish I could stay like this forever, but eventually we come together—in a surge of bliss and longing.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY

LOREN HALE

WE’RE ON THE FLOOR, curled up in two throw blankets and a couple of pillows. Lily has fallen asleep in my arms, her steady breaths warming my bare chest.

She’s never asked me why I can fuck be er than the sloppy lay at fourteen. Granted, our rst me together was actually my rst. But I always knew I’d eventually get her back in my arms. I vowed to be be er than all her other conquests. To keep Lily Calloway meant that I’d have to be able to sa ate her every need.

So I prac ced. I dated girls for a week or so, nothing too serious, but I made sure the sex was always about their desires, their pleasure, never mine. It helped gure out what would work for Lil—what sets o women the most. And I guess I just became good at it. So in most ways I succeeded.

I mean, I can sa sfy my twenty-year-old sex addict girlfriend, for Christ’s sake.

What I can’t seem to do is fall asleep, but at least holding her takes my mind o nding a drink. Kind of.

Suddenly, I hear the backdoor open, and the kitchen light icks on. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I forgot Rose lives here. How the hell did I forget that?

I glance down at Lily, completely naked like me. Oh…yeah. Her le breast is exposed, her nipple red and swollen from all the mes I sucked on it. I cover her with the blanket and count the clap of Rose’s heels on the marble of the kitchen, wai ng for that bomb to explode.

Maybe she won’t see us.

“Loren,” she says coldly, in her normal octave.

I li my head. Rose gives me a death glare that I’m sure has sent children to tears. Her hands rest haugh ly on her hips, and her mouth is downturned in a perpetual frown. She is about to bitch me out, but I put my nger to my lips and nod to Lily.

She’s asleep, nally. Hours usually have to pass before she relaxes, but a er she came a second me, she dozed right o . I could have raced around the room and pumped my sts in the air. Sure, sex—her vice— helped her sleep. It’s not exactly a triumphant win. But it’s a small victory nonetheless.

Rose’s eyes icker between us. She points at me and then jabs her

nger at the kitchen. I mouth, okay and then carefully maneuver out from

under Lily without waking her. She barely s rs, and I readjust the blanket so she’s covered completely.

“Loren!” Rose hisses at me.

I frown and look up to see her covering her eyes. Oh, right, I’m naked.

I try not to grin as I grab my boxer-briefs. Nope, can’t nd those. I snatch a throw from the couch and e it around my waist. I walk into the kitchen and she immediately assaults me with her leather purse.

“Okay, okay,” I whisper, blocking the hits with my arms. “I forgot you lived here, my apologies.”

She holsters her fucking weapon and uses her death glare again. “You can’t have sex in the living room, Loren. You broke a rule.”

“What?” No way. I know that list front to back…but so does Rose.

“No public sex,” she reminds me.

“The living room is not public.”

“It is now that you live with me. It’s a public space.” She mo ons around her. “Like the kitchen, and the garage, and everything that isn’t shared by only you and Lily. I didn’t think I had to explain that to you.”

A pain shoots up in my chest and I sink down on the nearest bar stool. “I didn’t…I…” I frown. Holy fuck. I’m such a goddamn idiot.

And the urge to vomit rises.

“Loren,” Rose says, her voice somehow so . I meet her eyes and they look shockingly sympathe c. “It was one mistake. It won’t happen again.” Her voice is cold, but her op mism helps a li le.

“It won’t.”

She lets out a small breath. “How did she do tonight?”

It’s like Lily had a quiz she needed to pass, and I guess partly that’s what sex is going to be like for her from now on—a test to see if she chooses to feed the compulsions or not.

“Be er than usual,” I say. “She listened to me more, and she fell asleep a er the hour. But I think that may be because I nally took her from behind.”

Rose talks about sex like we’re in a psychology class, nothing more than science, health and the human anatomy, which makes it frighteningly easier to discuss. “Did you two have anal sex o en?”

I let out a low laugh. “Every day.”

I hear the garage door grind open or closed, and I immediately shoot to my feet.

Rose holds up a hand. “It’s just Connor.”

“He’s sleeping here?” I say in disbelief and then my lips rise. “Are you

nally popping that cherry, Miss Rose Calloway?”

She looks about ready to tear out my vocal cords. My smile only grows.

“He has an early mee ng in New York,” she says. Must be for Cobalt Inc., his family’s ink and magnet company, that is almost as pro table as Hale Co. baby products, but not quite. “It was last minute, so I told him it might be easier if he slept here…on the couch.” Oh. Fuck.

I grimace, not able to glimpse at the couch from the kitchen. But through the archway, I imagine pillows astray on the oor and one of the cushions perilously hanging over the edge. Basically I le the room a disaster with Lily swaddled in a blanket. A bystander would assume we fucked on the couch, even though I was though ul enough to move her to the rug.

“There are two guestrooms,” I say. “Why the couch?”

“He didn’t want to cause a fuss a er he le ,” Rose says. Her neuro c self would have to rearrange all of the pillows on the bed, wash the sheets, and probably iron the curtains just to be sure he didn’t touch those too.

Connor walks through the door, a small du el bag slung over his shoulder and his hand preoccupied by tex ng on his cell.

When he looks up, his eyes meet mine and then dri down to my nearly naked body, stopping at my blanket, and then right back up.

“Hey beau ful,” I say with a grin.

He barely blinks. “Pants have been invented in this century.” He walks farther into the kitchen to give Rose a light kiss on the cheek. He must add the fact that I’m wearing a living room throw blanket because he says, “I thought you weren’t allowed to have public sex.”

Of course Rose told him about the list. She’ll take any lengths to make sure Lily stays on track in her recovery.

“No one was here. It seemed private enough to me.”

I can’t read Connor’s calm expression, but he looks to Rose. She already shakes her head—as though she knows exactly what he’s about to say. “I told you that you should have clari ed for them,” Connor tells her.

“I told you? What are you, one?” Rose snaps, but she’s just pissed she was wrong and he was right.

“Most one-year-olds can barely speak, let alone u er an en re idiom like I told you so.”

She looks like she wants to slap him. “Why are we da ng?”

“Because I asked you out and you said yes,” he tells her with a burgeoning smile. “And you’re madly in love with me.”

“I never said such a thing.”

He replies in French, and I can’t even process the words.

She smacks his arm, and he whispers deeper in her ear, his arm spindling around her waist as he draws her to his chest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rose so ushed before.

She puts a hand on his black bu on-down, making sure there’s space between them. He kisses her on the head and keeps his arm around her, but he turns to me. “The couch isn’t vacant then.” His eyes fall to Rose, wai ng for her to o er another solu on. Like her bed, but she has solidi ed to stone.

She’s not one-hundred percent ready to share a bed with a guy, which isn’t a bad thing. I take pride in pissing Rose o , but causing her this type of fear—even uninten onally—makes me feel horrible.

Rose says, “The guestroom in the basement is free. I put clean sheets on the bed the other day.”

Connor nods, accep ng the o er, and if he’s disappointed, I can’t tell at all.

I leave Connor and Rose to talk quietly amongst themselves, and I carefully li Lily in my arms. I successfully carry her back to bed without waking her. She sighs, dreaming peacefully as I place her onto the ma ress and tuck the comforter around her.

“Lo,” she says in a sleepy voice and rolls over onto a pillow, hugging it

ghtly in her arms. I’ve never been so jealous of a damn pillow.

But I let myself smile.

A year ago it would have been another man in her arms.

Oh, how far we’ve come.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LOREN HALE

WE MADE a deal not to put ourselves in stressful situa ons. Like the Sunday luncheon with Lily’s parents. Like any communica on with my father.

Today I’m breaking that deal.

Lily is busy with Sebas an, pretending to be tutored. I told her I was going to work out with Ryke at the Penn gym, but when I drive to Philadelphia, I make the turn into Villanova. Some of the houses have acres and acres of trimmed lawns, decora ve fountains gushing in the front yard and gli ering Lamborghinis parked in the driveway—a place more suited for Beverly Hills than the suburbs of Philly. My nerves ricochet every mile down the road.

Before I talked to Connor last night, I had no inten on of seeing my father. But I asked him the probability of nding the blackmailer before the informa on leaked. He told me that I had the same chance as the sun exploding in less than a billion years. I looked it up, and apparently the sun won’t explode for another four to ve billion, so in Connor Cobalt’s words —I’m fucked.

Then Lily’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. She was in the shower, so I answered it. An unknown number texted her. The word pounding in my head. Slut. It felt like someone punched me in the ribs, and just before I went into the bathroom to talk to her, I had a sudden impulse to check her other texts.

Seventy- ve of them.

That’s how many mes she’d been texted with insults—some more colorful than others. I’m not upset that she didn’t tell me about them. But now she can’t be upset when I talk to my dad. This has already gone too far. And I’m out of op ons. My father, he has more power in his right pinky than I do in my whole body. And if this is what it takes to ensure Lily’s safety, then so be it.

I pass the gates and park the car into the circular driveway. It takes a moment for me to muster the courage to ring the doorbell. I can hear the chime reverbera ng throughout the house.

A er a couple minutes the door swings open, and I expect the sta to stand on the other side, ushering me in to see my father. Maybe Jonathan’s assistant. Maybe the groundskeeper, who some mes nds his way indoors.

But my father has done the impossible and answered his own door. His forceful posture lls the frame, nearly goading me to take a step down the stone stairs and plant my feet on the sidewalk in defeat. Somehow, I stand my ground.

He wears a ght-lipped expression, eyes darkened by booze and soul blackened by hate. I focus on the wrinkles by the creases of his eyes, weathered since the last I saw him. I think, in this moment, I should have a sudden undeniable resentment towards this man. He spit on me when I asked for help. He took away my trust fund when I told him I was going to rehab. He lied to me for twenty-one years.

My emo ons tangle together, and yet, bi erness is so far from what I feel. Pity is closer to the surface. I realize that I could have become him. Hell, I s ll can go that direc on and be alone in a mansion, drinking away my problems and wishing away the “could-have-beens” with the “nows.” As much as I hate to believe it, he is me—without Lily. Without Ryke or Connor. He’s my future if I drink again.

I don’t say anything, partly because he should lead me inside without me asking. He can’t pretend he never sent all those messages about wan ng to meet up or have lunch. He wants to see me, even if he denies it, even if he’s barely moved an inch from the door.

“You’re on my fucking doorstep,” he nally says. “Would you like to explain why, or are you wai ng for an invita on?”

I hold in a strained breath. “I wanted to talk.”

I think maybe he’ll say something sharp like calling me back would have su ced. But he pushes the door further open and walks into the house, dapper in his charcoal suit. I follow him, closing the door behind me, and head through the long hallway towards the outside pa o.

The house feels di erent. I grew up here. Ran through the hallways and slid on the waxed hardwood, nearly breaking my arm. Yet, being here sober, clearer, makes all those memories seem dark and hazy.

On the stone pa o, I take a seat at the black iron table, overlooking the small pond that rests on sprawling acres of land. Two ducks swim in the murky waters, avoiding the lily pads oa ng beside them. My father mixes himself a drink at the black granite bar, glasses clinking together in a familiar tune.

I close my eyes, listening to the reverent sounds: the chirps of birds, the trickle of the fountain, the jingle of the wind chimes. Some mes I think a part of me has been chipped away. I know I’m not completely the same person sober as I was when I was drinking. But what if the part of me that changed was a piece of my soul—a good piece? Or maybe I’m just making excuses to drink again. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Deciding what’s right and what’s wrong in my head. I just feel so confused all the me.

I open my eyes just as my father saunters over with two empty glasses and a bo le of dark liquid. He places the crystal glass in front of me, and I focus on his slow movements.

On impulse, I place my hand right over top of the glass before he can pour anything into it. My heart beats loudly in my chest.

His eyes darken. “So you can’t even have a fucking drink with me now?”

My throat feels like lead, but I manage to nd my words just ne. “It’ll make me sick. I’m on meds.” Thank God I took my pill this morning.

His jaw clenches ght, and he resigns by pouring himself a glass and sinking down in the chair across from mine. I take my hand o the crystal and ip it over.

“Are you here for money?” he asks, jumping straight to the point.

I stare at the table and gather my thoughts. Why am I here? For two things, neither of which revolve around nances or lack thereof.

He con nues o my silence anyway, and I let him. “I know what I said before you went away—”

“Do you?” I snap.

“Yes, Loren. And maybe if you gave me some me to process everything, things would have turned out fucking di erently.” I’m not sure what kind of di erent he means. Not going to rehab? Having a rela onship with him? Did he just take away my trust fund out of impulse? But if that was true, he would have given me money when I returned to Philly. He would have made a be er e ort to x things.

My eyes narrow at the table in deep thought. He did try to call me. He was reaching out. I was the one closing him o —because Ryke told me to. He said I shouldn’t open that door again, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe my father has been right all along.

He swishes his drink before downing it in one gulp.

My throat goes dry.

“You’re my son,” he says de ni vely, “and I’m not going to let you struggle because you make bad decisions.”

“Rehab wasn’t a bad decision.”

“It was a waste of fucking me,” he refutes. “Drinking isn’t a problem, and you’ll do it again. Don’t fucking fool yourself.” Before I open my mouth to retort, he says, “But that’s beside the point.” He pulls out his checkbook. “I want to help you get on your feet again.”

“I don’t want your cash,” I say, even though I know that’s a stupid choice. Because, really, what am I going to do? I can’t keep living o Lily’s inheritance. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to gure what I’m good at and make a living without crawling back to my father for rent.

“This isn’t the me to start being humble,” he tells me. “You can’t try to be sober and work a job at the same me.”

“What do you think normal people do? Not everyone has rich parents to fall back on.”

“You do,” he says. “And why the hell do you think I work so fucking much?”

“You have nothing be er to do.”

He glares. “I do it so that you won’t have to struggle like this. So stop being a fucking idiot and take the damn money.”

I believe him, even though Ryke would probably tell me that I shouldn’t —that Jonathan Hale spends hours at his o ce because he’s miserable and alone and likes all the riches that he can a ord to buy.

There’s a s pula on a ached to that check too. I’ll be indebted to him in some way. It’s why he took away my trust fund in the rst place. It’s more than just him wan ng me to enroll in college again. He wants that power over my life—to tell me what to do, to mold me as the son he always dreamed I would be. But I’m just a big fucking disappointment.

“That’s not what I’m here for,” I say, a weight bearing on my chest.

He sighs and shuts his checkbook. He pours another glass. “What is it then?” He’s more intrigued than he lets on. The curiosity glimmers in his dark eyes.

I take a breath, staring at the over-turned, empty glass in front of me. Booze would help, but I have to do this alone. “I want her name.”

“Who?” His voice has an edge, telling me that he knows exactly who I’m referring to.

“My real mother.” The woman he had an a air with. The reason why he split from Sara Hale, Ryke’s mom.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” he says coldly.

“And I don’t believe you.”

He lets out a low laugh and taps the table with his lighter, a cigar box not far away. “I knew you’d want answers. Where she lived, what she looked like, but they’ll only upset you. And I didn’t want to see your face twist.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She didn’t want you, Loren. I’m telling you not to waste your fucking

me.”

How can I believe him a er all these years lying to me? But a part of me digests this informa on as truth.

“There it is.” He brings the glass to his lips. I realize that my face has contorted in a mul tude of emo ons. Hurt, the strongest of them.

“You’re wrong,” I say under my breath, just so I can go back to being as hard and cold as him. “I want her name. A er all these years that you told me Sara was my mother, I, least of all, deserve to have a semblance of the fucking truth.”

He rolls his eyes drama cally, and to my surprise, rips o a check and

ips it over. I watch him scribble on the paper and then he slides it to me.

“I’m not the bad guy here,” he says. “I’m just protec ng you from feeling more pain. That’s it.”

I stare at the check.

Emily Moore.

“Did you love her?” Not, where is she? Or, why did she give me up? I have to ask the stupidest, meaningless ques on there is—because my father doesn’t believe in love.

“For all of een minutes, sure,” he says dryly. “Now you have what

you want, can we move on from all this bullshit?” He wants to go back to the way things were, but I’m not even sure that’s possible.

“I need something else,” I tell him as I pocket the check. “And it requires discre on.”

He laughs wryly and gets up to re ll his glass. “Why am I not surprised? What the fuck did you do this me?”

I ignore the slight. “It’s not en rely about me. It involves Lily.”

He sits back down, hand cupping a full glass of scotch. I try not to focus on it too much. “I golf with Greg and have lunch with him every other day, so is this the type of discre on that requires me to lie to her father?”

Oh, yeah. “It will ruin the Calloways.”

My father straightens up, his features hardening. He actually looks a li le like Ryke. “What the fuck is going on?”

“You have to promise, and I want it in wri ng.”

He gives me a look. “Don’t be a li le shit.”

I glare. “I’m not being a li le shit. You say you’ve done all of this…” I mo on around me. “…the lying about my brother and my real fucking mother, because you were trying to protect me. Then understand that I’m trying to protect the girl I love. And I’d do anything to accomplish it. So if you don’t fucking sign something that says you won’t open your goddamn mouth, then I’m gone.” I stand up, my chest rising and falling with sudden anger.

“Sit the fuck down.”

I don’t.

“Sit,” my father sneers. “I’ll go get a piece of paper. I don’t think I can write a contract on the back of a check.”

I sink to my chair and watch my father leave the pa o, mu ering curse words under his breath. But I’ve won. This me.

HE ENDS up typing it on his laptop. A er an hour we have a contract wri en and signed, not allowing him to directly or indirectly tell the Calloways anything. If he does, he forfeits Hale Co. to Ryke. At rst we had agreed that I would acquire the company, but he looked a li le too pleased about the idea of me inheri ng his business. Now stress-lines crease his lips at the very thought that his kid—who despises him—could obtain his legacy. At least I know he loves me more, but really, that’s not a very high achievement.

My father has a newly topped glass of scotch, and we’re si ng on the pa o again. His contract in his o ce, mine on the table.

“Now, what’s so serious that I can’t even tell my best friend?” he asks.

“When I got back from rehab, I received a text from an unknown number,” I tell him. “He said he hated me and he basically threatened to expose Lily’s secret out of revenge. So I don’t think he’s blackmailing us. He’s not asking for money, but he did men on it once. He said he could get paid a lot from the tabloids if he told Lily’s secret.” The words pour forth before I have me to stop and evaluate each one. I’m scared, and if my father didn’t see it before, he does now. I feel like a li le kid blubbering about a bully at school.

“Slow the fuck down,” he says sternly. “We’ll take this piece by piece.”

I repeat everything again, being vague about Lily’s involvement and even going into more detail about the unknown number and how Connor’s PI traced it to a disposable phone.

My father listens rather well, and by the me I nish I can see him reeling over the piece of the puzzle that I’ve purposefully avoided.

“Unless Lily is the ring leader of a drug cartel, I highly doubt it’s anything to land Fizzle in a nancial crisis. Really, tabloids have be er things to do than gossip about heirs and heiresses. Look at you going to rehab, you didn’t even make it in The Enquirer.”

My addic on and hers are not propor onate. Not by a longshot. I’m another notch on the rich-kid sob story who gets addicted to alcohol or drugs. Lily, a girl, is addicted to sex. Even if it does happen, people don’t talk about it, but they will this me.

“Let’s say people nd her newsworthy, and not in a good way. What then? Do you think you could nd this guy?”

“I could try,” he says, eyes alight with interest. “What is it?”

And I just let it out. “She’s a sex addict.”

I watch him frown and then quickly the disbelief turns into humor. He laughs so hard that his st subconsciously pounds the table, a pepper shaker overturning and clinking on the iron. I guess it’s hard to believe that the girl he knows, shy and a li le awkward, would have that kind of addic on.

“You got me. I’ll give you that,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

My expression never falters. I can’t laugh with him or joke about Lily’s problem. Not when I know how dangerous it has been. Before we were together, I found out that she was sur ng Craigslist for a hookup. There are levels to sex addic on that scare the shit out of me.

My father watches my unwavering features, and his smile fades. “You’re serious?”

“She’s addicted to sex. She has been since…I don’t know, since she lost it.” I cringe, never wan ng to talk to my father about this.

He rubs his mouth, connec ng everything together. “Oh…” His eyes grow. “Oh…fuck.” He glances at my contract like he’s one second from snatching the paper and se ng it on re.

I pocket the contract, and his eyes li to mine. “We have a deal,” I remind him.

“Sex addic on—are you even sure?” he asks. “That’s a serious accusa on, something that would need proof.”

“She’s seeing a sex therapist,” I tell him, “and not that it’s any of your business, but she used to hire male pros tutes, so yeah—she had a fucking problem.”

“Had? Past tense?”

“We’re working on it.”

He lets out a low laugh that chills my bones. “You’ve been le ng your girlfriend fuck other men?” He shakes his head, and I can prac cally hear his thoughts: that can’t be my pussy of a son. He stands to pour himself another drink. I usually don’t no ce how o en he re lls, but this has to be the third or fourth me—an amount that would have most people sloshed. But he’s a func oning alcoholic. Twenty-four-seven drunk. No one can really tell. It’s there in his hard eyes, ready to lash out spitefully at any moment. He’s just riding that wave, the edge to his life sandpapered down.

And I know if I had a sip, I’d be the same exact way. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I’m not aggressive, but some mes I’m belligerent. I can make sure that won’t happen. I’ll be calm.

I have the sudden urge to ip my glass and ask for alcohol. I’ll get sick, I remind myself. It’s literally the only argument I can think of right now.

I try to focus on my father’s eyes and not the glass in his hand. “I didn’t let her fuck anyone when we were together. We only started da ng seven months ago.” I explain quickly about our fake rela onship, cursing myself that everything has become so complicated that I have to reveal this too.

My father hasn’t taken a seat yet. “You acted like you were together just so I wouldn’t send you to a military academy?”

“Yeah,” I say. “You were ready to ship me o , weren’t you?” I had fucked up and vandalized some guy’s house for messing with Lily. He mailed her a dead rabbit a er his girlfriend discovered that he fucked another girl, and he blamed it on Lily, even though he was the chea ng bastard.

I retaliated by dousing his door in pig’s blood. It was one of my more crea ve e orts. And I was black-out drunk. I honestly remember very li le of the whole ordeal. But I can recall everything a erwards—how my father grabbed me by the neck and yelled in my face. What did you get out of this, Loren? Did it make you feel be er? Do you like being such a sick fuck?

My father was prepared to kick me out a er I dragged his name through the mud. I was the degenerate, the resident bad boy who would go to another school district just to mess with someone. I was suspended. I was a stupid kid who wanted to make Lily feel be er—who wanted to change every horrible fucking thing. But I just didn’t know how.

My father wanted to be proud of me, but I gave him nothing to be proud of.

“Maybe I would have shipped you o ,” he says, swishing his ice in his whiskey. “I was mad as hell back then. Your rela onship with her was the only redeeming thing. So maybe.”

I nod. Yeah it’s why he let me stay. Maybe he would have missed me too. But he’ll never admit that.

“So if you two weren’t really together, what the hell were those noises coming from your room?”

I frown and then recogni on hits me. I bury my face in my hands, mor ed. “You heard her?”

“You weren’t the only one living here,” he snaps, “and you two were loud.” No. She was loud. “It’s not as if I was trying to listen. Believe me.”

This is so fucked up. I rub the bridge of my nose, wan ng so badly to wake up. Wake the fuck up.

He nally se les in his chair. “Don’t tell me you let her fuck someone else in your bed.”

I drop my hand and scowl. “Let’s get something straight—you’re not allowed to talk about her fucking anyone. Not me, not someone else, not anyone. Got it?”

He rolls his eyes. “You just told me she’s a sex addict—”

“I don’t give a shit,” I say coldly. “She’s s ll my girlfriend. She’s s ll Lily. And I’m not anywhere near comfortable talking about this with you.”

“Maybe she’s just a slut,” my father says, clearly ignoring me. “Ever think of that?

I could punch him. I think I could. But I don’t. I use my words, just like he taught me. “I’m going to say this once, and then you will never ever fucking call her that again. Nor will we have this discussion.” I’m standing up now. “She has a problem. She cries herself to sleep because she can’t stop thinking about it. I hold her in my goddamn arms, trying to get her to quit. Sex is her drug.” I point to my chest, my arms trembling. “I get it. I fucking get it, and you should too if you think for a goddamn minute how much you rely on that.” I mo on to his drink and he s ens. “And if

anyone is the slut, it’s you.” He paraded enough women in and out of the house that I could have easily obtained some complex. My chest rises and falls heavily as I nish speaking.

His voice so ens considerably. “That s ll doesn’t explain what I heard in your bedroom. If you two weren’t together—”

I grimace. He’s s ll on that? “I used to let her masturbate in my bed.”

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak. I cut him o . “No way,” I snap. “You don’t get to ask any ques ons about that. Our rela onship—even fucked up—is between us. It has nothing to do with this situa on.” That’s a lie, but I’m not discussing that shit with my father.

He keeps his lips ght now and then sips from his glass.

“If the tabloids found out—” I start, but it’s his turn to interrupt me.

“Lily would be in the tabloids, being called names that you don’t like.”

“What about Fizzle?”

“It would su er, and because you’re linked with her, so would Hale Co.” He rises from his chair. “Let’s nd the bastard.”

PART TWO

PART TWO

“We all have secrets; the ones we keep, and the ones that are kept from

us.”

– PETER PARKER, THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LILY CALLOWAY

I HATE FLYING.

Not like Superman ying. But plane ying—trapped in a metal tube in the air.

Add in my fear of heights and the prospect of being in a small, con ned space for a long period of me, and I begin to freak out a li le. I need the op on to dash into a room and burrow underneath the covers, to hide from everyone and escape to my sanctuary.

Privacy, that’s my bread and bu er (besides porn).

And now that I’m on the road to recovery, I can’t even join the mile-high club. I should already be in the pres gious sex-on- ight clan. Being denied for the umpteenth me aggravates me and cranks up my already intolerable sexual frustra on.

Lo doesn’t fare much be er. He used to love ying because of the mini-bo les of vodka. Now he just looks like someone stole his favorite toy.

The only upside is that we’re ying somewhere fun for Spring Break. Ini ally, I didn’t want to go anywhere. Traveling to a party locale during the wildest week of the year seemed like a disaster zone for a recovering alcoholic, but Lo basically forced me to concede. He said he wants to test himself, and there’s no be er place than Cancun—with Ryke tagging along. Because we all know his half-brother would stand in front of a bus before le ng Lo drink.

I would too. But I haven’t been put in that kind of situa on yet.

My father’s private jet resembles a presiden al living room more than a commercial plane. I lounge on a long plush couch with blue pillows. A television is mounted on the wall and plays a newer thriller lm with Nicholas Cage.

Lo is sprawled out long-ways, his head in my lap as I give him a mediocre head massage. He reads a comic on his tablet, ipping the pages with his nger every so o en.

Over on leather recliners, Rose slides her rook across a chess board. Connor leans forward with his st to his lips in contempla on before he makes a move with his measly black pawn. The li le alcove is nice for four people. And there’s another set of chairs and a table top to our right.

My eyes dri from the movie to the bathroom, hidden behind the same wall that the television occupies. “She’s been in there a long me,” I tell Lo in a so voice. I am jealous of everyone in that bathroom. I just want to drag Lo by the arm and let him do whatever he wants to me in there. Preferably something that makes my back arch.

Lo expands a panel of his comic, his a en on absorbed by persecuted mutants. I stop rubbing his temples, and then he follows my gaze. “Maybe she has to actually use the bathroom.”

“True.” An insensible part of me thought that tall, athle c volleyball players are immune to natural bodily func ons.

I pause and glance over my shoulder, expec ng to nd Ryke to the right set of chairs. But that alcove is empty, only a couple bo les of water and splayed magazines. My eyes widen in realiza on. I gasp. “Ryke is missing.” I point to the bathroom door. “They’re screwing.”

Lo sits up, rising o my lap. I realize I am done giving him a terrible head massage. I’m surprised he hasn’t red me before.

“They are da ng,” Lo reminds me, powering o his tablet and tossing it on the cushion.

Ryke brought his “somewhat” girlfriend on vaca on with us. In truth, Ryke doesn’t have real girlfriends. He just “dates” which is a loose term for seeing someone and having sex for a short period of me. At least, that’s how he explained it to me when Melissa stood at the airport with her rolling suitcase in tow.

Really, if I think about it, that’s what Lo used to do before we became an o cial couple.

I squint at the bathroom door, wondering when my X-ray vision will kick in.

It doesn’t.

“Why do I have the sudden urge to put my ear to that door?” My eyes grow big. Did I just say that out loud?

“You’re staying on the couch.” Lo tugs me onto his lap and kisses me lightly on the neck. I smile into our next kiss, his mouth mee ng mine, but he draws back before I can deepen it. Damn.

My eyes ash back to the bathroom. “Can we? Later?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love.” He places a small kiss on the edge of my lips.

The bathroom door swings open, and I watch as Melissa struts out rst, combing her ngers through her shoulder-length, honey blonde hair. I spring from Lo’s arms and rush to the bathroom as though I have to pee.

I don’t.

I just really want to catch Ryke red-handed. I think both Lo and I can agree that it’s overly fun trying to make his brother uncomfortable. I have yet to be successful. But one day, I’ll gure out what makes Ryke Meadows squirm.

When I look through the door frame, I nd Ryke at the sink, washing his hands. He doesn’t even recoil in surprise.

“You are so busted,” I say. “I just saw Melissa leaving here.” I waggle my eyebrows for further e ect, but he stays unblinking. Catching someone in an incrimina ng deed is not as fun when they don’t act like they’ve been caught.

“So?” He dries his hands on a co on towel.

Being a cop can’t be nearly this annoying.

He says, “I’m sure you’ve spent plenty of me in a plane’s bathroom with someone else.” I have tried. None have been successful. But that’s not the point…right?

“We have a no-sex policy on this ight.”

“For you.” He gives me a stern look, and then his eyes oat over my shoulder.

“You’re making her paranoid,” Lo says from the couch. “Wait un l we land.”

My cheeks redden. Maybe confron ng Ryke wasn’t the smartest idea. But at least Melissa has stuck earbuds in and ips through a magazine, se ling in her chair among the empty alcove.

I shake my head at the guys. “No, it’s ne. Ryke, you can fuck Melissa all you want. Do it in the bathroom. On the couch, well not on the couch, I’m si ng there. The point is…” I take a breath. “Don’t let me stop you.” Because really, it’s my only distrac on right now. Or maybe I just really want to hear it or something. No, I don’t. Okay, I miss porn way too much.

Ryke stares at me for a long moment, and I wonder if he senses my longing for porn too. Then Lo says, “Unless you want to start being in her fantasies.”

Ryke grimaces. “It won’t happen again.”

He slides out of the bathroom, and I return to the couch, and slap Lo lightly on the arm. There’s no way that Ryke would ever ll my fantasies, desperate or not.

Only when my gaze dri s, do I realize that the couch is lower than the chairs that Ryke, Melissa, Connor, and Rose sit on. I can clearly see their legs underneath the table. And while Connor’s knees knock with Rose’s, her ankles are modestly crossed.

Melissa and Ryke are a di erent story. It’s like the angels on my le side and the devils on the right. I should watch Connor and Rose’s chess tournament. Connor has won two games and Rose has won three. By Rose’s pursed lips, I can tell she’s losing the current round.

But I can’t deny the call of the bad.

Melissa may think she’s stealthy, but her hand runs up Ryke’s leg and towards the inside of his thigh. I even catch her unzipping his jeans. They sit side by side, and I have a worse view of Ryke, but his hands aren’t on the table either, if you know what I mean.

A sudden burst of jealousy in ltrates me. Because she can have sex on the plane. Twice. Or three mes. She can even grope her somewhat-boyfriend, and he can run the bases with her.

“Try not to think about it,” Lo says. “And that probably starts with not looking at it.”

I turn to meet him, and he gives me a sympathe c smile. But he looks just as tweaked as me. “How are you doing?” I ask.

“I’d feel be er if I knew you were okay.”

“When we land do you think we can…?”

He doesn’t answer me. He just pulls me to his chest and strokes the back of my head, his ngers lost in my hair. He nds the remote and turns the volume up on the television. I take his silence as an answer anyway.

I’ll have to wait.

THE GOLD ornate lobby has dark green oors and large Mayan statutes along the led walls. Decked out with four pools, more than a dozen restaurants, and even more clubs, the resort is much fancier than I feel.

Melissa waits with me by a totem fountain while the others join the line to the front desks, hoping to check us into our rooms in a reasonable hour. Ryke’s somewhat-girlfriend runs her ngers through her blonde hair again. She wears no makeup, which reminds me a li le of my youngest sister. Daisy can pull o that fresh-faced look but s ll be pre y enough to pose for a magazine. Melissa looks prepared for the cover of Sports Illustrated—perfectly toned arms and clear complexion. Beauty and brawn.

I’m s ll trying to nail down the beauty bit, and with my chicken legs, I don’t think I’d stand a chance to achieve the brawn part.

“Do you have a brush?” she asks. “My hair always tangles in the humidity.” She ashes an outgoing smile, and I suddenly feel badly for never ins ga ng a single conversa on before now.

Lo and I mostly kept to ourselves on the plane. I did cheer on Rose at one point—that was before she lost her chess tournament and knocked over Connor’s king in frustra on. Connor tried not to gloat, but even the appearance of a smile irked Rose. She called a Scrabble rematch, which she won. So in Harry Po er’s epic nal words, “All was well.”

But even in a ght, cramped space, Lo and I blocked out the rest of the world and whispered to ourselves. We have to work on that. So from this moment on, I make it my goal to be a be er friend…or person…whatever you call someone who needs to work on her social skills.

And that starts with a brush—that I don’t have. I cringe. “Sorry, I didn’t pack one.” Has she seen my hair? “I’m sure Rose does.”

Melissa shrugs. “I can wait.” She snaps a blue band o her wrist and

es her hair into a small bun at the base of her neck.

“So…how did you meet Ryke?”

“At the gym. One of the machines wasn’t working, and he helped me.”

“Sounds like Ryke,” I say with a nod. He’s a xer. “Did he punch the machine into submission too?”

She frowns, and I immediately regret my words. Oh my God. I’m an idiot. “I mean, because he’s kind of aggressive…” I cringe again. What is wrong with me? “Not in like a woman-hi ng way. I don’t think he’d ever do that. He just, you know, punches rst and asks ques ons later.” Lily, shut up!

She looks mildly freaked out—which isn’t too bad. She could be horri ed to the point of dar ng away. “We haven’t been going out that long, but I’ve never seen him hit anyone.”

“Oh yeah, me too,” I lie, trying to nd an out from this situa on. She frowns again, because I’m obviously not making any sense. But it’s be er that she now nds me insane and not Ryke.

I have seen Ryke throw a punch. First to protect me when some guy didn’t understand the word no, and then to protect Daisy at an out of control New Year’s Eve party. In fact, the only me I’ve ever seen him be aggressive is when women are treated badly. But I don’t tell Melissa this. I’ve already dug myself a big enough hole.

“What’s going on over there?” Melissa nods to the front desk. A long line spindles across the lobby, the place jam-packed from the Spring Break fes vi es. Three hotel sta in green collared shirts le their posts to talk to our group, and Rose’s hands are moving wildly in the air.

Something is de nitely wrong.

I pay one of the bellhops to watch our luggage, and Melissa and I make our way to the front desk, weaving in and out of angry stares that think we’re cu ng the line.

“Sorry,” I apologize a couple mes.

I don’t dare near Rose, who is having some sort of verbal ba le with the hotel sta , Connor right by her side with a narrowed gaze. Instead, I slide next to Lo and Ryke who stand o to the side. “What’s going on?” I ask Lo.

He runs his hands through his hair like he’s xing it, but I think he’s more anxious than anything. “There’s a problem with the room,” he says casually. “It should be resolved soon, or so they say.”

“What kind of problem?” Melissa asks.

“They double booked,” Ryke says, leaning an elbow on the counter.

“Is there another room?” I ask.

“That’s what Connor and Rose are trying to gure out.”

Just as he says this, Rose pulls out her phone and walks o towards the exit. I frown. Where the hell is she going?

Connor slips past hoards of swea ng tourists who just want their room keys, and he stops in front of us. He looks about ten mes less stressed than my sister. “So bad news. The three-bedroom suite that we had booked is unavailable due to scheduling issues. Rose is going to call other resorts, but the probability of ge ng a last-minute suite during college Spring Break is slim to none. This resort, however, does have a room available. Two queens and a pull-out, so it sleeps six.”

His eyes icker to Lo and me as he delivers the last line.

The bo om of my stomach drops down and down and down.

I can’t have sex.

I hate, hate, hate that I’m most worried about that. I hate that Connor and probably my sister are concerned about my sexual cravings. I don’t want to make this a big deal.

“That’s ne,” I say quickly, adding an assured nod. Even though I ddle with my ngers and focus on not bi ng my nails.

Melissa’s lip twitches. I bet that she’s peeved by the change of plans. She says, “Well this sucks.” Yep, I knew it.

Ryke’s features harden. “You realize that if you went with your volleyball team to Panama City, you’d be sleeping on top of each other in some dingy motel room anyway.”

“I just quali ed for the Olympics,” she reminds him. “I’m pre y sure I can a ord to rent a condo in Florida.”

Ryke tugs her into his arms and then whispers something so (and I imagine sexy) into her ear. She sighs exasperatedly, but her shoulders relax.

Connor ushers Lo and me away from them and over to the totem fountain. His voice lowers. “Rose is trying her best, but seriously, we can go anywhere else. The Alps. Canada. Bermuda. We don’t have to stay here if it’s going to make you both uncomfortable.”

Running away from this situa on sounds en cing. I’ve never even been to summer camp. And as a girl who likes her privacy and avoids social interac on, I do not take pleasure in the idea of sleeping in one room with

ve other people for an en re week. Add in my sex addic on status and

everything becomes a big pile of this is going to blow.

Lo reaches out and takes my trembling hand in his. His gaze tells me to be strong. “It’s up to you.”

I don’t want to run. I don’t want to put other people out because of my stupid addic on. It’s me to work through this instead of scampering away like a squirrel caught in tra c. “We should stay.”

“Are you sure?” Lo puts his hand on my neck and a breath hitches in my lungs. Maybe we can have sex in the bathroom or…on the beach at night. We can nd somewhere to do it surely. It won’t be that bad. I just nod over and over as I try to convince myself.

“Lily,” Connor cuts in, “where did you leave the luggage?”

“With the bellhop…” I turn to look at the place I stood. Which would be right here by Mr. Totem Fountain.

“What bellhop?”

“Um…the one I paid to watch it.” My heart sinks and my palms go clammy.

“You mean the guy you paid to steal it.”

Oh no.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

AFTER TWO HOURS and a police report later, we come to the conclusion that our bags are o cially lost—or rather, stolen.

Lo, Ryke, Melissa and I have to spend one of our vaca on days at the U.S. Embassy to replace our passports before we can return home. It’s not by luck that the only two people responsible enough to keep their passports on them were Rose and Connor.

Losing our bags is just another headache, and I’ve apologized so much that my throat has gone sore. Rose is mostly upset that she no longer has all of her clothes and her products and everything that makes her feel comfortable away from home. To make ma ers worse, our room doesn’t even have a pull-out couch with a bed underneath.

It’s a normal sofa.

And to rec fy the situa on, Connor called room service to bring up a cot. Ryke o ered to sleep on it with Melissa on the couch. But she wore the “I hate this” expression that she had in the lobby. She did not want to be volunteered for the sofa and cot. She planned to cuddle with her somewhat-boyfriend, and that’s unachievable if they’re on separate pieces of furniture.

I can totally understand her frustra on right now. Even though I was lucky enough to snag a bed, Connor and Rose’s queen sits not even ve feet from ours. It’s not as if I can have a quickie without them no cing. And Melissa would catch us too. The couch faces the beds, and Ryke somehow wedged the cot between both.

It’s as if Ryke Meadows is sleeping at the foot of our ma ress. Such an unse ling thought.

The silver lining has to be Rose and Connor. During disaster situa ons, they’re the two people you want in your squadron—able to think under

re. They both went to the gi shop and bought essen als like toothpaste

and toothbrushes. For pajamas, Rose picked out extra-large neon shirts that say I LOVE CANCUN.

When she showed me those, I immediately remembered how this week was supposed to be a big step in her rela onship with Connor. She asked him to sleep in the same bed as her, and when we had the three-bedroom suite, her plan didn’t seem as scary. But now that the sleeping arrangements have altered dras cally, and everyone will be in clear sight of their bed, she’s more nervous. Tackling this level of their rela onship in front of other people is not something she had imagined.

Even in my twen es, I s ll nd sleeping in a bed with a boy a kind of in mate a air. Maybe because it usually coincides with sex for me, but I think Rose can agree that the act is not so friendly.

Darkness blankets the room, but I can s ll dis nguish the outline of bodies. Rose and Connor lie underneath their maroon comforter, facing one another but not touching. They were whispering so ly before, but their voices have quieted, leaving the room in an uncomfortable s llness.

I ip over and turn to Lo, his arm wrapped around my waist.

His eyes are already open, and his foot slides against the bareness of my ankle. The silence envelops us and makes me hyperaware of every small noise, my breathing too loud in the quiet. I’m sure Ryke believes all my li le movements coincide with me a emp ng to screw Lo.

But I just…can’t sleep.

Anxiety crawls under my skin like a bed bug. I start playing scenarios in my head of being denied sex over and over. Where I can’t do anything for an en re week. Where I can’t escape to a bedroom to disappear from other people for ve minutes. I’m surrounded. Su oca ng.

“Lo,” I whisper, trying to be as silent as I can. But my voice sounds like a megaphone in the quiet.

He tugs me closer, and his hands lower to my hips and then lower. He cups my bu with one palm and rubs my back in a circular mo on with the other.

He tries to be quiet, even as he kisses my lips gently, encouraging me to relax with each one. But his tender kisses do the opposite, building need so deep inside of me. And a horrible part of my brain clouds the reasonable side. I ing my leg over his waist, and then his lips immediately depart from mine. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to touch them again.

A er a couple minutes of Lo stroking my hair and watching my breath begin to calm, my eyes grow heavy and I think I’m nally about to dri to sleep.

And then my phone glows and vibrates on the pillow that I’ve abandoned to be closer to Lo. I roll away from him, and he props an elbow on the ma ress, worried about me.

“I’m ne,” I whisper and cradle my phone in two panicky hands. I swipe the lock on my cell, and I’m met with a brand new text.

Have fun sucking cock in Cancun. – Unknown

I blink a couple mes, the brightness from the screen hur ng my eyes. Bile rises to my throat as I reread the words. I’m less a ected by the “sucking cock” part as I am by the “Cancun” bit.

He knows where I am…

Quickly, I shut it o and swing my legs o the bed. My heart pounds in my chest, and I really just need to think for a second. I try to navigate the room in the dark, but I end up tripping on the end of the cot. I fall to my knees.

“Fuck,” Ryke groans. “That was my foot.”

“Sor-ry.” My voice shakes and I pick myself back up, stumbling to the bathroom. I feel a hand on the small of my back as soon as I retreat inside.

Lo closes the door behind us, and I ip on the lights. He squints from the blinding uorescence, and I splash some water on my face. The bright neon blue Cancun sweatshirt stops at my thighs and feels so hot on my body right now.

“What’s wrong?” Concern laces his voice. I haven’t told him about the texts. I meant to, but every me I’m about to men on it something else comes up.

Tears prick my eyes, and I manage to hand him my phone anyway. I turn back around to the mirror and the sink, not wan ng to watch his face as he reads them. This already feels so out of my control. Every breath falls heavy against my chest. I just want to be unsaddled from this anxiety. Is that at all possible?

Yes it is, the bad part of me says.

I’m not wearing any pants or shorts, and my hand just seems to naturally direct itself to my pan es. I slip my ngers below the hem while I have an elbow planted on the counter, hunched over with my forehead buried in my arm. Everything feels so, so, so wrong and out of my control and I just want to feel good again.

“Lil,” Lo says behind me. He drops my phone, the cell cla ering to the

oor. He ins nc vely grips my arm and presses his chest hard against my

back. “Shh, you’re okay, love.”

I want to listen to his voice, but I’m more focused on how that feels, my ass rubbed against him. He removes my ngers from my underwear, and I let him bring both of my hands underneath the warm water. He washes them quietly.

I sni a li le, emo ons bubbling, things I really hoped I wouldn’t feel at all on this trip. Guilt, shame—failure. He brushes the tears from my cheeks, and I nally hear his voice.

“We’re going to nd this guy. You don’t need to worry about it, Lil.”

“He knows we’re in Cancun…” My voice comes out in a whisper.

Lo spins me around a er he dries o my hands. He cups my cheeks and

lts my head a li le to meet his eyes. “No one is going to hurt you. I

promise.”

I love—more than anything—that he doesn’t bring up the fact that I just touched myself. That I fucked up in a ny immeasurable way. He brushes it o , moves on, and makes me feel like I should too.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LOREN HALE

“JUST DRINK MORE WATER.”

That happens to be Ryke’s brilliant advice whenever I tell him that I feel like a car ran over me. This morning is no di erent. I stand on the pa o, the crystal blue beaches in the horizon, but right below lies the congested pool. Sloshed college students splash in the clear waters to the beat of some techno rap remix. Amps sit beneath a white stretched canopy, shaded from the dangerously hot sun. Some mes a DJ arrives to fuel the crowd’s drunkenness, but right now, the sta on stays vacant. The leathered skin DJ downs tequila shots at the ki bar with two girls in G-string bikinis.

It’s de nitely Spring Break.

I chug more water, but it doesn’t cure the pounding headache or the exhaus on that aches my muscles. By the me Lily and I went back to bed, it was near three in the morning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the text and calling my father. I replayed an en re conversa on about what I would ask him. How I would frame my words…just to check up on the progress of everything.

“Are you okay?” Ryke asks.

If I say yes, he’ll know I’m lying. So I don’t know why he asks me. “I’ve had hangovers that have felt be er than this.” I stretch my arms and legs, loosening up my joints.

Ryke sits on the pa o chair and smears cream cheese on the bagel that he ordered from room service. “But this type of pain isn’t accompanied by horrible drunken memories. Consider yourself fucking lucky.”

“Yes, I’m feeling overwhelmingly lucky right now,” I retort bi erly.

“We’ll nd that guy,” Ryke tells me. I showed him the texts this morning before Lily woke up. “And then I’m going to put my st in his fucking face.”

“HEY! THIRD FLOOR!!”

I lean an arm on the balcony railing and spot two American girls in string bikinis, their breasts hardly contained. Like the locals, they’ve tried to adopt the scarce bo om look, asses fully exposed. Both girls hold brightly colored plas c cups, their hair braided across their shoulders.

Ryke stands and puts his forearms on the railing, taking in the sight. He bites into his bagel nonchalantly, watching as the girl in the green bikini waves us down.

“Come swim with us!!” she shouts with a smile.

“Remind me why I came here with a girl,” Ryke says with a longing look. He checks out her ass, and the girl only grins wider.

“Because you didn’t want to be the h wheel.” I smile at his distress.

A loud scream echoes from the room, and we both quickly peel away from the balcony and rush inside. Without much room, I bump straight into Connor’s back. He almost trips over the cot that blocks the hall, but he grabs onto the dresser before falling.

“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to maneuver around the fold-out bed.

Ryke is so annoyed that he kicks the en re thing. It slams into the wall and somehow e ciently makes room for us to walk.

“Daisy is here,” Connor says.

“What?” Ryke goes rigid. Probably thinking the same as me—that was a happy scream?

I frown and search the room with a hesitant gaze. But I only spot Melissa on the couch, ea ng a bagel and typing on her cellphone. Her lips are downturned, not having as much fun as she probably imagined.

“They’re in the bathroom,” Connor explains. “Rose wants to put makeup on and use Daisy’s a ron. She’s actually excited, but the luxury of name-brand hair products will probably wear o when she realizes that her sixteen-year-old sister just arrived to Cancun during college Spring Break.”

“So no one knew she was coming?” I ask.

Connor shakes his head. “She wanted to surprise her sisters.”

“She can’t stay,” Ryke says roughly. “I nearly died trying to chaperone her sweet sixteen in Acapulco.”

I heard the story from Lily, who also chaperoned Daisy’s birthday. Apparently the fearless Calloway jumped o a cli into the ocean and Ryke felt the need to jump in a er her.

“I won’t let her jump o anything,” I tell him. “I happen to be a damn good chaperone.”

He glares. “You couldn’t chaperone a fucking sloth. And that requires remedial skills like si ng and watching.”

I shoot him a hard look. I honestly don’t care if Daisy stays or not. One more person in an already crowded room won’t change anything. “Daisy blends in. You won’t even no ce she’s here.”

His brows harden and his jaw sets, equally as rm. “When’s the last

me you’ve fucking seen her?”

I want to say last week, but I’m certain that’s wrong. I strain my mind. I guess I haven’t seen her since I’ve been back from rehab. In fact, I don’t think I ran into her at the Christmas Charity Gala last year. Granted, I didn’t stay long. The last me I saw her must have been during the yacht trip to the Bahamas—when Lily and I became a real couple. Jesus.

That was a long me ago.

“Daisy doesn’t blend,” Connor says.

“When have you seen her?” I snap accusingly. I don’t like that these two guys have spent more me with my girlfriend’s sister than me. I’ve been around the Calloways longer. I’ve known Daisy since she was a kid. I’m supposed to be the interim “big brother” gure. Though, I’ve done a pre y shi y job of it so far.

“I go to the Calloway Sunday luncheons with Rose,” Connor tells me. Oh. Shit.

If I marry Lily, I am easily going to be the worst son-in-law.

And then I pale at the idea of Connor and Rose.

Connor Cobalt cannot marry Lily’s sister. He’ll set una ainable standards that I will never be able to meet.

Loud, happy squeals resound from the bathroom. I relax at the mere thought that Lily is smiling. Last night she was near tears, and anything that can change her mood is something I wholeheartedly approve of. “I’m going to check on them,” I say.

Ryke takes a seat on the edge of the bed, scowling at the carpet. He seems deep in thought. About what—I have no clue. Could be Daisy. Could be Melissa. Could be me.

As I pass, I point at him, “You know what would make you feel be er?” I open my mouth to nish, but he cuts me o .

“I’m ne.” And then he crosses his arms.

“Sure.” I give him a once-over. He’s probably pissed that he’s stuck with Melissa. The girl wears impa ence like it’s her job. “A beer.”

“A what?”

“A beer would make you feel be er.”

He glares. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“You be er go to the bathroom before I punch you, which will actually make me feel be er.”

I mock gasp. “But I thought you were ne.”

He actually stands o the bed. I don’t badger him anymore. But Christ, his annoyance made me feel be er. Sans beer and all. With a wide smile, I walk over to the bathroom. The giggles grow in octave, and I rap my knuckles against the door.

“Who is it?” Rose calls from inside.

“Lo.” I glance over my shoulder. Ryke and Connor watch me in curiosity by the balcony doors, not a emp ng to in ltrate the exclusive club that the Calloway girls have. For the rst me, I’m a li le nervous that the girls won’t invite me in. I’ve always been allowed to be with them. I’m Lily’s other half.

But things have changed, I realize. Rose has a boyfriend. I have a brother. Two more guys have been added to our dynamic, and I could easily be grouped o with them.

So when the door swings open and Lily grabs my shirt, pulling me inside, I can’t help but grin. I feel kind of fucking special. I kiss her almost immediately and while my tongue slides into her mouth, she pushes the door closed with her foot.

Rose clears her throat, and I break away, wrapping my arms around Lily’s waist. She leans back into me with a deep breath, and I nally take in the room. Hair products and makeup have exploded across the counter. Rose sits on the bathtub ledge with a a ron in one hand and a tube of lip gloss in the other.

“Did Saks Fi h Avenue vomit in our bathroom?” I ask.

They all laugh, and Rose is even too happy to retort with her usual ice. She looks like someone saved her from a deserted island. When Lily untangles from my arms and kneels down over a huge suitcase, I see Daisy for the rst me.

She sits on the other side of the suitcase where clothes upon clothes pile high, the stack threatening to topple over. Shopping bags are smashed into available corners of the luggage.

“Hey Lo,” Daisy greets with a warm smile.

And as I truly look at her, my face slowly falls. All I can manage to say is this, “You’re…blonde…” A million other thoughts cross my mind. Most of them circulate around one thing: Me, warning Daisy to stay far away from every guy on the fucking planet. And I have a ash of having to beat the shit out of someone on this trip—just to protect a girl who easily looks as old as her two sisters. She can t in with our group of college-aged kids. And she shouldn’t. She’s sixteen, despite being a high fashion model.

Great.

Now I know exactly why Ryke was scowling. He knew she was going to be trouble. Not because of her personality. But because…she’s beau ful and too young to be here.

Daisy runs her ngers through her insanely long hair. “The modeling agency wanted it blonde.” She drops the strands, and they splay past her breasts. Fuck. I hate that I’m even looking there. I x my gaze on Lily instead.

She tosses bathing suits from the shopping bag. She looks like she’s digging to China through clothes. It’s kind of adorable.

“So what are you doing here, Dais?” I ask, my eyes staying on Lily. It helps keep my mind o dragging Daisy to the nearest airport. I just want to make sure she’s safe. Three years ago, I’m not sure I would have even cared. Being sober de nitely shi s my priori es.

“Well,” she says, leaning against the sink counter. “I always miss out on Spring Break with Lily and Rose. Seeing as how this is Rose’s last o cial college Spring Break, I thought I’d just kind of tag along. But don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m here. Promise.”

I must be glaring because she smiles again for sincerity. I believe her. That’s not what I’m worried about.

“What about high school?” I ask.

“The teachers gave me extensions on all of the assignments like they do when I have a photo shoot out of the country.” Before I can protest, she adds, “And Rose texted me last night about the stolen luggage, so I had

me to stop at the mall and pick up some clothes for everyone.” She grabs

a Macy’s shopping bag and hands it to me. “I picked out some swimsuits for Connor, Ryke, and you. I didn’t think you guys would want to su er through shopping on your rst day at the beach.”

“Yessss!” Lily cheers from the oor.

Everyone turns to see her raising a one-piece bathing suit like it’s baby Simba.

“I thought you would like that,” Daisy says. “It’s Billabong.”

“You need sun,” Rose says atly. She claps her iron at Lily. “Drop. The. Suit.”

Lily clutches the black one-piece to her chest, half the suit mul colored with layers of diamond pa erns, like a psychedelic Na ve American print. “I have Daisy on my side,” Lily reminds her. “She’ll tackle you.”

Daisy nods con dently. “I will.”

Rose is in such a good mood that she concedes. “Fine.” Her eyes icker to the one-piece that Lily covets. “It is cute in a beach bum, ‘I’m going sur ng because I can’t read’ type of way.”

I dig through the Macy’s bag that Daisy gave me, and I pause.

There are ve swimsuits, all di erent bright neon colors but the same style. A Speedo. Pre y much a mankini.

“Uh…Daisy.” I raise my brows. I hold up the banana hammock on the end of one nger.

Daisy tries not to smile too wide, but she’s enjoying this. “The store clerk said those were the most popular.”

“For children maybe. I’m not sure my dick can t in this.” And I instantly wince at my choice of word. “I mean, my stu .”

Lily is distracted enough that she drops her bathing suit, her eyes gleaming between my crotch and the suit. Her imagina on is just too fucking vast. I cannot keep up.

Daisy looks at me like I’m the weird one. “It’s okay to curse in front of me. I won’t ta le on you.” Yeah, she de nitely makes me feel stupid for trying not to warp her young, fragile mind. But she’s a model. I can’t even begin to understand what goes on a er a photo shoot, during one, or before. I’m pre y sure they talk about dicks and breasts and a whole lot of other shit that would be inappropriate around easily in uenced kids.

She’s not twelve, Lo, I remind myself. She’s sixteen. There is a di erence. She’s in high school. Hell, she’s probably had sex.

I stop myself. There are some things I just don’t want to know.

I twirl the suit around and focus on Lily. I ing it at her and she catches the mankini in her hands.

“Yeah,” she says, far away with her naughty thoughts that I de nitely wish I could hear. “I don’t think he’ll t.” She ushes like she didn’t mean to say that aloud. I just want to kiss her.

“Unnecessary informa on,” Rose says.

“Actually that was necessary,” I say. “If I can’t t, then I need another bathing suit.”

Daisy bends down and starts digging through the suitcase beside Lily. While she rummages around, I remember that she shouldn’t be here in the

rst place.

“So she’s staying?” I look between Rose and Lily, wai ng for one of them to be the mature older sister and set guidelines, rules, whatever and send Daisy back home.

But the most responsible girl—maybe in the en re universe—gives me the worst kind of reprimanding glare and says, “She can stay.”

I think they’ve gone nuts. They obviously don’t understand what Daisy looks like or realize her age and the fact that just outside our window are hundreds of horny fucking guys. “Can I talk to you and you”—I point at Lily and Rose—“in private. Thanks.”

From the suitcase, Daisy glances up at me. “I’m sorry about the swimsuits. It was just a joke, honestly. Here.” She tosses a new shopping bag to me, and I hesitate, mostly because I see how much Daisy wants me to be okay with her here. She doesn’t want to put anyone out since she’s essen ally crashing our Spring Break. And I think if I told her that she’s not welcome, she would be on the next ight without argument.

Before I search in the plas c bag, I keep my gaze trained on Rose who has the most sway in whether or not Daisy stays in Cancun. “What happens when a guy o ers her a drink?”

“I’ll turn it down,” Daisy answers. She rocks on the balls of her feet, prepared to answer more ques ons.

“Are you going to drink?” I ask her.

“If it upsets you, then no.”

My muscles twitch. I don’t like the idea of people being sober just because I am. That’s ridiculous. “It doesn’t upset me, but you’re underage, Daisy, even in Mexico.”

“Since I was fourteen, my mom has always let me drink during vaca ons. Ask Rose.”

Rose unplugs her a ron and brushes her glossy hair. “Just the fruity drinks,” she says. “And only because Mother trusted you not to go crazy.”

“I won’t,” Daisy says. “And if it makes you feel be er, I won’t drink at all.”

I shake my head and wear a deep frown. I’m not sure what the right call is. I know that most kids drink at sixteen. And I wouldn’t want to baby her just because I’m an alcoholic. But is twenty-one the magical safe age or something? I don’t know.

I internally groan. She may not be staying here at all so it won’t even ma er. “What happens if she breaks from our group, Rose?”

“She won’t,” Rose retorts. “I’m not going to leave Daisy alone in a foreign country. While the big brother rou ne is a ering, Loren, she has two sisters in Cancun who care for her just as much, if not more. She’s safe with us.”

I watch Lily glance between me and Daisy, and I see the worry so apparent on her face. She wants her li le sister here just as much as Rose does. Maybe they want to spend me with her, to reconnect together in ways that they haven’t in a long, long me. And if Daisy can put a smile on Lily’s face, then maybe the hassle will be worth it.

“Okay,” I nod.

“Are you sure?” Daisy asks. “If you’re upset, then I can go…”

“No,” Rose cuts in.

I glare at her. “So glad to know that you consider my feelings, Rose. We now know who the nicest sister is.”

“I thought that was me,” Lily pipes in with a coy smile.

“You’re the best everything, love, that’s unspoken and true.”

She bites her lip, and I can prac cally hear her chan ng for me to come over there and kiss her. I would, but Rose is searing holes in my forehead.

“What about Connor and Ryke?” Daisy asks hesitantly.

“Connor won’t care,” Rose tells her.

Ryke will. I ash her a comfor ng smile that feels a bit false for me. I just hope I’m not grimacing. “If Ryke isn’t nice to you then I’ll take care of him.” I actually turn to Rose for approval, not sure why hers means so much to me. But she nods in apprecia on, or as close to the sen ment as that girl can come.

“Thanks, Lo,” Daisy says.

Lily stands up and sidles to me. I wrap an arm loosely around her shoulders while she sinks into my body. This is a hug that should turn into something more. I can feel her aching for it as her ngers dig deeper in my waist. But she can’t. I just hope she can withstand a week without sex. She’ll need to be sa s ed by kisses. Whereas normal people take a kiss as real a ec on, Lily sees it as nothing more than teasing if it’s not the means to a good fuck.

I rub her back while I dig through the plas c bag with one hand. I nd three appropriate male swimsuits in black and navy-blue. “Are these the only other guy suits you bought?” I ask Daisy, a wicked thought crossing my mind.

“Yeah. Are they bad?” She comes to my side and peeks in the bag. “These Ralph Lauren ones should t.”

“I know. I’m just thinking that you only bought two of them…for me and Connor.” They all catch on to my ploy.

Rose shakes her head repeatedly, but Lily is nodding ercely. Daisy’s lips pull into a devious smile, de nitely up for a bit of harmless fun.

If Ryke and I are going to be brothers, I might as well start reaping the bene ts. And it begins with a prank.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LOREN HALE

WE TOOK one step onto the beach, and I thought my eyeballs were going to burn out of their socket. The sun was inescapable, too hot to even breathe properly. And all the beach cabanas are rst-come- rst-serve, so we have to wake up earlier to claim one tomorrow. We end up nding seven lounge chairs around the crowded pool. On the elevator ride down, Daisy asked me again if it was okay if she drank around me. Personally, I feel worse if people stop having a good me on my account. I’ve forced Connor to order wine—his drink of choice—on numerous occasions.

But I thought I’d be a li le more crea ve in my reply to Daisy since she is sixteen and I’m s ll trying to understand what’s appropriate for teenagers. I told her that I didn’t mind if she drank, but she shouldn’t drink more than Rose. In fact, she should try to loosen Rose up this week. If there’s anything I’d pay good money to see, it’s Rose Calloway drunk.

Daisy easily agreed. She seems to want to please other people, and I wonder just how much of her life has been dedicated to appeasing her mother.

Both Daisy and Rose wade in the pool with piña coladas in their hands. An engul ng rock fountain swamps one circular alcove where a pool-side bar lies, but we’re a good distance from that mobbed area.

Ryke climbs out of the pool and nods to the rest of us who idly stand in the water. Lily is the only one on dry land.

She lies alone on a lounge chair, not wan ng to join us. I get it. She touched herself the rst night, and I’ve been repeatedly telling her that she’s not going to have sex this week. Now we’re at a pool with half-naked guys, a half-naked me.

I can spot several couples groping underneath cabanas, and even a few cling to each other in the water, making out, the guy’s tongue deep down the girl’s throat. There’s no shame there either. And I think she’s probably just as jealous of that too.

She’s craving sex badly, and I understand wan ng to dri o with music and take a nap in the sun. So I let her have her space and try to talk with our friends.

“I’m going to go buy some tacos,” Ryke says. “If you want to eat one, you be er come with me.” He stands con dently in his hot pink mankini. When I told him it was the only suit le , he literally shrugged and put it on. Tan skin, ripped abs, and stylish wayfarers—he instantly looked cool even wearing that damn thing. And the girls playing water volleyball even gawked at his ass.

That’s not exactly the reac on I was looking for.

Melissa swims to the edge and climbs out, always a ached to Ryke in some way. And whenever she’s forced to untangle herself from him, her mood ips. A part of me wonders if that’s what Lily and I look like when we’re in someone else’s company—bored and aggravated. Probably. I guess it’s something we’re working on.

“Ready?” she asks, hooking her pinky with his ngers.

He lets go of her hand and nods to the pool again. “Calloway,” he calls. All three girls turn to look at him, even Lily on the chair. He rolls his eyes and points at the tall blonde. “Daisy. You coming?”

She shakes her head and sucks on the straw of her piña colada. For lunch, we all ate handmade pizza, but Daisy picked at a salad instead. I think it’s a success that she’s even sipping a fruity drink that contains a shit ton of calories, but knowing Ryke, he no doubt believes alcohol is the equivalent of bark on a food pyramid.

“Come on,” he prods, gesturing her to follow him. “You’ll like the taco, I promise.”

“I probably will,” she says, “but that s ll doesn’t mean I should eat it.”

Melissa clutches Ryke’s hand and begins to pull him towards the outside grill behind a set of palm trees. “She doesn’t want a taco,” she says, tugging him like a child would a parent. “Let’s go.”

Ryke’s jaw locks, and I think he would try to convince Daisy un l she relented, but not with Melissa yanking his arm. So he leaves with that failure. Ryke inser ng himself in other people’s problems is nothing new. I’m not surprised that he would take interest in Daisy’s diet, one that she maintains only to please her mother—I’ve known that since she started modeling.

Connor holds a mojito low in his hand and watches Melissa disappear behind the palm trees with Ryke. “He’s going to regret bringing her.”

“He already does,” I say. I didn’t think being around alcohol would a ect me as much. My a en on zones in on the plas c cup, and it takes a great deal of energy to concentrate on other things. Like my brother’s sex life, not that I par cularly care about it.

“What’d you do last year for Spring Break?” Connor asks.

I strain my mind and shake my head. “I can’t remember.” I’m sure I spent my nights at a bar while Lily fucked other guys. Our old rou ne. It’s all so hazy, even trying to crawl back through the memories is like walking through fog. “Probably something stupid,” I mu er under my breath.

Connor takes the hint and doesn’t prod. “If it makes you feel any be er, my last three Spring Breaks were in Japan trying to convince angel investors to capitalize in Cobalt Inc.”

I let out a short laugh. “Now I just feel like an underachieving loser.”

“I tried,” he says with a casual smile.

Rose swims over to us and she elbows me in the ribs.

“Hello, Rose,” I say with a grimace.

She points to our lounge chairs where Lily lies.

“Do you see what she’s reading?” Rose asks me, not even slurring yet.

I frown and study Lily. Sure enough, in her hands is a Cosmo magazine. “Where did she get that?”

“Daisy probably bought it from the airport.”

“Is she not allowed to read trashy magazines?” Connor asks.

Rose lts her head like he asked a stupid ques on. “Not ones that describe sexual posi ons and have romance stories in the back.”

I raise my eyes at him. “You’ve never read Cosmo before?”

“I never needed to know the top y ways to pleasure a man.”

I splash him, and he lets out a laugh, and I actually smile. I swim to the ledge, knowing full well that if I had whiskey today, nothing would have stopped me from u ering a bi ng response. And for once, I truly feel like I achieved something.

I hop out of the pool. Lily doesn’t even see me coming, too immersed in a dirty magazine.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LILY CALLOWAY

5 SEX TOYS PERFECT for Traveling. My li le bullet vibrator survived the bellhop-impersonator-thief since I stowed it in my purse, but there’s a slim chance I’ll be using it any me this week.

Vibra ng pan es even made it on the list. I have those too (back home), but I never actually tried them out. I ip the page and land on the sex ps from guys. Some make me laugh, while others are actually helpful. I skim the list and smile at the advice from Bre , 24. “Wet your lips. Then tell me you can’t wait to taste me.” Thank you, Bre for making it seem like girls have to give blow jobs to please a guy. Not true. In fact, if I didn’t like giving Lo head, I wouldn’t do it.

“Hey.”

I jump a li le at the voice and press the magazine to my chest, ushing in a rosy shade. I relax when I see it’s Lo, dripping wet in his swimsuit. I try to focus on his face and not his body, but even the striking jaw and dark, wet hair looks extremely sexy right now.

I lick my bo om lip and say, “I can’t wait to taste you.”

He narrows his eyes, not amused, and grabs the magazine from me. My shoulders slacken as his eyes it over the page. They roll drama cally when he reads Bre ’s advice. Lo folds the magazine in his hand and sits down on the foot of the lounge chair. I realize I’m probably not going to be ge ng that Cosmo back.

“It’s not porn,” I defend immediately.

“You s ll shouldn’t read it. You’re trying to go a day without thinking about sex, and ipping through a magazine that highlights the ten best ways to go down on someone is not going to help.”

I just nod, and then my eyes dri to Ryke who walks back towards our area with an aluminum foil wrapped taco. He licks his ngers, so I assume he already ate one on the way here. Melissa says something, and she leaves his side, heading back to the hotel room. It’s strange that she would ditch him when she’s made it clear that he’s the only reason she’s withstanding the rest of us.

My gaze dri s to the bright pink Speedo that leaves nothing to the imagina on. He lls it out too well. One wrong move and everything may just pop out. “That kind of back red, didn’t it?” I say to Lo with a smile.

Lo places a hand on my bare calf, which sends ngles down my spine. Even the simplest touch right now, I covet. “How was I supposed to know he was so comfortable in a banana hammock?” Lo says loud enough for Ryke to hear when he approaches. “We’ve only been brothers for four months.”

“We’ve been brothers for twenty-one years,” Ryke refutes. He sits on the pool ledge beside our chair, s cking his feet into the water. “You only knew about me four months ago.”

“And that’s supposed to make me like you more?”

Ryke ashes a dry smile and nods to the magazine in Lo’s hand. “Beach reading?”

Lo tosses the magazine on the wet cement beside Ryke. “Here, maybe you can learn how to go down on Melissa. She seems incredibly displeased by you.”

“I can lick her just ne. That’s not why she’s mad.”

I tear my eyes o the hand that Lo keeps planted on my ankle. I would like, dearly, for his ngers to run up to my thigh. Especially a er all this sex talk.

“Why is she upset?” I ask.

“Same reason you are.”

“She’s a sex addict too?” I say brightly. I’m not the only one out there. Wow, that feels good.

“No, she’s just a normal horny girl.”

Oh, damn. My shoulders droop.

Lo starts rubbing my calf. That feels even be er. I sink against the back of the chair, relaxing. Lo scrolls through his cellphone for a moment, and I watch as Ryke mo ons to Daisy in the pool without calling her name.

She swims over to his spot by the pool wall, and since he sits out of the water, he towers above her and hunches slightly to look down at Daisy. He holds the taco out to her.

She sets her empty cup beside the sopping magazine. “I thought you said I could only have a taco if I went with you.”

“I’m making an excep on.”

Her eyes icker between the taco and Ryke, and I don’t like where this is headed. It reminds me of the me where he tempted her with a piece of chocolate cake. She ate it, but only a er a string of inappropriate events. Lo didn’t see that. And he’s too focused on his phone to look up and watch Daisy and Ryke.

But maybe…maybe it’s all in my head. I mean, my thoughts circumnavigate to sex all the me. Maybe these past three months without Lo, their me together has been innocent and not as bad as I believed. And I do want Daisy to eat that taco.

“What will you do for me if I eat that?” Daisy asks, a scheming smile li ing her lips.

“We’re bargaining now?”

She swims a li le closer to him, her shoulders the same height as his knees. “It’s only fair. You want me to do something. So I think I should get something in return.”

“You get the nutrients of this fucking taco,” he tells her. “That’s a win-win.”

She tries hard not to smile and just shakes her head. Oh, she’s learned how to play his games since the last me. I should break this up, I think. But I’m hypno zed by their easy banter.

“What do you want?” he asks.

I nudge Lo with my foot. He needs to see this! They’re about to strike some deal that is not going to be pre y. I try to nd Rose and Connor too, but they’ve dri ed over to the pool-side bar.

Lo reluctantly tears away from his phone and follows my gaze, watching my sister and his brother.

And then Daisy’s sly smile falters. “I don’t know what I want,” she realizes.

“Well that’s a problem.”

Lo gives me a stare like that’s what you’re freaking out over? Really? It’s all in my head, isn’t it?

“And I don’t have me for you to gure it out,” Ryke tells her. “The taco will be cold by then.” He peels the aluminum foil back and holds out the end to her. “Come on, just one bite.” His tone isn’t kind or so . It’s rough and forceful, something that Daisy is not used to, I think. Her curiosity twinkles in her eyes.

Daisy stares at Ryke for a long moment. “Why do you want me to eat this so badly?”

“Because your body needs something more than fucking rum, ice and piña colada mix.”

“My agency would disagree.”

“Your agency fucking sucks,” he says.

“You would try to make every model eat cake, wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

She smiles. “You know they’d just throw up a erwards.”

“You be er not—”

“I’m not bulimic,” she says. “I’m not even anorexic. I just know what I should and should not eat. And trust me, when I’m not coun ng down the days to a photo shoot, I’ll pig out. But I have a runway in three weeks. Everyone will be pinching my fat, and you won’t be there to see their disappointed, disgruntled looks. I will.”

“I think,” Ryke says slowly, trying to process the words, “you need to realize that this taco isn’t going to add an inch on your waistline. If you have as great willpower as you say, then ea ng this won’t cause you to binge tomorrow.”

I kind of want to clap. He actually makes complete sense, and Daisy contemplates his whole statement with high regard. And then she nods in acceptance.

“Okay,” she says. “But just one bite.”

“Unless you love it.”

“Like I said—”

“You like many things, that doesn’t mean you should eat them,” he

nishes. “I heard you.”

“You listen,” she says mockingly. “What kind of guy are you?”

“The rare kind.”

My shoulders tense. Are they ir ng? Does Lo see this? He is watching, but I can’t read his expression at all. His muscles, however, pull ght.

“Okay,” Daisy says, eyeing the taco. “I’ll eat it.”

“Stop talking about it and do it,” he says.

She sets a hand on his leg and the other on his wrist as he holds out the taco. She leans forward to take a bite, and I swear, her eyes connect with his the en re me. There’s something incredibly dirty about this—I see it, does anyone else?

Lo says nothing.

When she takes a bite, her eyes u er closed and she lets out an audible moan. “Oh my God,” she mumbles, chewing.

Ryke wears a sa s ed grin, like he won the best prize, seeing her happy (or making an orgasmic noise, I have no idea). Sauce leaks onto her chin, but her head is lted back, too absorbed in food bliss to no ce. He uses his thumb to wipe the sauce right below her lip.

“Good, right?”

She swallows. “The best.”

Okay, maybe I’m the only one processing the event in a phallic way. Ryke and Daisy act completely innocent about the en re ordeal. Maybe they don’t even realize how sexual it all was. (At least it wasn’t a hot dog.)

“Here.” He holds out the rest of the taco.

Surprisingly, Daisy accepts the food, taking the foil from his hands. “Thanks,” she says in genuine apprecia on. And then she swims o towards Connor and Rose.

Lo opens his mouth, and I wonder if he’s about to chas se Ryke. But how can he when Daisy ate something healthy for once? That has to be a win, right?

Before Lo says a thing, Melissa returns and we all go quiet. Well, technically Lo and I were already quiet, but the air stretches in an uncomfortable way.

Melissa sits beside Ryke on the cement, and she leans a shoulder into him. He wraps his arm around her.

“The maids are done with our room,” she tells him, prac cally ba ng her eyelashes.

That’s where she went—to check on the status of our room? If I’m not allowed to have sex there, then why can she? I look to Lo for answers, but his gaze has permanently xed on Ryke.

“I already talked to you about it,” Ryke says evenly.

“Yeah, but the public bathrooms are so gross.” She looks up at Lo and me. “You guys don’t care if we fool around for a couple minutes back in the room, right? We’ll s ck to the cot.”

“Daisy is sleeping on the cot tonight,” I remind her. Daisy o ered to sleep on the oor, not wan ng to ruin our arrangements with her impromptu arrival, but Ryke refused to let her crash on the ground. He was nice enough to take the worst spot.

“Then we’ll use the couch,” she says with a shrug. “You two are free to go back and have fun whenever. Really, it doesn’t bother me.” Hope surges through me. This is my opportunity to have sex later this week. Just when I’m about to tell her to frolic right on over to the room, Ryke has to speak.

“It bothers Rose and Connor.”

Her face falls. “Oh.”

An awkward silence soaks the air, and Daisy swims over to cut it right up. “Rose and Connor are gh ng,” she exclaims. She li s her body out of the pool and sits on the chair next to me. “It’s kind of scary. I don’t understand half the words coming out of their mouths.” Her hair looks almost brown now that it’s wet. She wrings it out in her hands.

I glance at the pool-side bar. Sure enough, Rose and Connor square o , their mouths moving in such rapid succession that they look as if they’re on a debate team. People surrounding them watch in amusement and even awe.

“Anyone want a re ll?” Melissa asks. She stands and waves her empty cup.

“I could take a daiquiri,” Daisy says.

“Virgin, right?”

Daisy doesn’t even blink. “No, I’m drinking rum.”

“I don’t really condone underage drinking. You’re what, seventeen?”

“Sixteen,” she says, s ll una ected by Melissa’s edgy words. “In some countries, I’m old enough to be married and sold into pros tu on, so hey, I think a couple of drinks won’t necessarily kill me.”

“Well life is di erent here. We’re in America.”

“We’re in Mexico, actually.”

Melissa’s throat bobs, but she tries to brush o her snafu with a shrug. “Yeah, whatever.”

Ryke hardly suppresses his grin, and when he meets Daisy’s gaze, she gives him a look like you’re going to get in trouble.

Ryke does not care what anyone thinks of him, even his somewhat-girlfriend.

Melissa sets a hand on her hip. “Want anything, babe?” she asks Ryke with a li le force.

He doesn’t drink. We all know that, and so her power move is completely obvious.

“No, I’m good,” he says. When she struts o in her black bikini, Daisy

lts her head, watching Melissa’s bu bounce all the way to the ki hut.

“She does have a nice ass.”

“Yeah?” Ryke says casually, eyeing Daisy as she observes Melissa.

“Oh yeah,” Daisy says. “But I’d put my ass in conten on too.” I think she’s tes ng Ryke.

Lo s ens beside me, and he waits to see how his brother is going to

respond. Shut it down, Ryke—I can hear Lo recite in his head. Or I’d like to think I can hear him. I s ll haven’t developed that superpower yet.

“Her ass is be er. Sorry,” he says, but he never looks back at Melissa. Daisy has stolen his a en on.

She shrugs. “You’re probably right, but if I had to rank asses, Rose’s would be number one. She has the best hair too.”

“Your hair is pre y,” Lo tells her.

“Don’t,” Ryke warns him with the shake of his head. If Daisy is insecure about anything it’s the hair she cannot cut or dye, per her agency’s rules.

Lo’s face sharpens, resen ul that Ryke knows more than him. Being out of the loop for three months has been a disadvantage. Ryke saw exactly what went on when Lo was in rehab. Lo did not.

I scoot to the foot of the lounge chair and rest my head on the crook of his shoulder. He draws me into his arms. But my presence isn’t enough. I can’t give him back all those days he missed.

“My hair is ne,” Daisy says. But she braids it subconsciously. Then she rises and sets her toes on the pool edge. She splashes into the water, and surprisingly, Ryke joins her, dropping in. He breaks the surface and runs a hand through his wet hair. Both of them cling to the wall, facing us.

“Is she good in bed?” Daisy asks him.

My eyes widen to saucers.

“Why, you want to fuck her?” he asks.

“Sure why not,” Daisy says. I can barely tell she’s sarcas c, and Lo grinds his teeth a li le. Ryke, however, nds it way too amusing.

“Then have at her, Daisy. She’s all yours.”

“You would just ditch your girlfriend like that,” Daisy says with the cluck of her tongue.

“She’s not my girlfriend. I’m just passing through.”

“Wow,” Daisy says atly. “I hope for her sake she knows that.”

“She does, but I may have promised her a week of mind-blowing sex in exchange for ditching her volleyball team.” No wonder she’s so grabby.

“You be er nd a way to make good on your end of the deal,” Daisy says, her gaze past our chairs. I turn my head and spot Melissa coming over with two drinks.

“Why is that?” Ryke asks.

“If that’s how pissed o she looks now, imagine what she’ll look like on the seventh day of abs nence.” For some reason, I only see my distressed, manic face staring back at me. “I’m glad I’m not you,” Daisy tells him with a laugh.

He gives her a bi er smile and then puts a hand on her head, submerging her underneath the water. She splashes underneath, trying to surface.

Lo shakes his head at him.

“What?” Ryke says.

“You’re walking a thin fucking line.”

“I always am, li le brother.” And then he releases Daisy so she can come up for air. When her head breaches the surface, she spits a mouthful of water right at Ryke’s face.

He splashes her back, and underneath the water, Daisy must hook her ankle to his because he almost slips backward. Instead, he grabs ahold of her so he stays above the water.

“Hey,” Melissa says. Li le umbrellas are plucked into both of the piña coladas. She scru nizes Ryke and Daisy, the way Ryke is basically hugging her in the water, but it’s really accidental. Or so I keep telling myself. It makes me feel be er about the situa on.

Ryke dri s from Daisy, and she swims to the ledge where we sit. They both look completely innocent again, as though no ir ng just occurred. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I’m just the pervert, thinking with my downstairs far too much.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Daisy holds out her hand for the drink.

“It’s a virgin daiquiri,” Melissa says, passing her the white slushy-like mixture.

“Oh.” Daisy holds the clear plas c cup. “Why is that?”

“They didn’t understand me when I told them my order. We’re in a foreign country.” I can’t tell if this is a ploy to keep Daisy sober, but I don’t see what she would have to gain from that.

Daisy hikes her body out of the water and stands from the ledge, sopping wet. She’s dripping water onto the foot of my lounge chair, and she glances at Ryke. “How do you say in Spanish, no virgin drinks?”

Melissa frowns. “How would he know?”

“He’s uent,” Daisy says. She discovered that during her sweet sixteen in Acapulco. Ryke has a pro ciency in Spanish due to his prep school upbringing.

He climbs out of the pool and grabs the cup from her. “I’ll order you a fucking drink. Wait here.” He leaves, and whatever Melissa was expec ng to happen, this was not it. She pout-glares, which is a scary combina on.

While I love that I’m not the only one who’s going to be sexually frustrated this week, Melissa is like a storm wai ng to break. And with Lo being surrounded by never-ending drinks and the threat of the blackmailer s ll lingering, this trip teeters on the brink of chaos.

My only hope is that Rose and Connor, the two level-headed people of our group, can keep us a oat. My gaze hits the pool again. They’re s ll bickering.

God, help us.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

SLEEP HATES ADDICTS. At least that’s my theory on the ma er. While everyone else is well rested and o to explore Mexico, Lo and I have to drag ourselves out of bed.

My frozen muscles barely even s r when a burst of water douses me in the lukewarm shower. I raise my half-asleep arms to scrub the shampoo in my hair, and I nd myself leaning a hip against the coldness of the led wall for extra support.

Being late sleepers means having the room all to ourselves. We haven’t had sex (and aren’t planning to) but the privacy is nice for a li le while.

As I rinse the shampoo, the bathroom door creaks open. Even though I know Lo is the only one s ll at the hotel, I cling to the led wall, wondering if the fog will magically hide my naked body.

I spot Lo through the shower glass door, not enough mist to conceal me. And if I can see him, surely he can see me. I even catch a glimpse of his sharp cheekbones and devilish smile, his eyes i ng up to mine for a brief moment. Then he turns to the sink.

My mind switches into imagina on mode. Thinking about all the ways he can do me.

“Morning, love,” he says, watching me through the mirror. He combs two hands through his disheveled brown hair.

That’s so not helping.

“You could have knocked,” I tell him as he pulls o his T-shirt. His muscles ripple down his chest, and he even has those de ned ridges that lead towards his cock. “Or, you know, announced your entrance like they do on Downton Abbey.”

He steps out of his drawstring pants, now completely naked. He walks towards the glass shower door and stops. And then he knocks on it.

I have petri ed by the led wall.

“It’s Loren Hale,” he says, a smile spreading across his lips. “May I come in?”

“We can’t…” I hesitate. No. I do not want to nish that sentence.

“We can’t shower together?” he says in disbelief. “Says who?” No one. De nitely not me.

“You may enter, but I have to warn you the water is being stubborn. There are moments where it’d rather be cold despite my demands.”

He opens the glass door. Don’t look, Lily. My eyes plummet against command, and once I’m staring, I can’t stop. Sensi ve- lled places pulse as I imagine him inside of me. His ngers press against my chin, li ing my gaze.

“If I have to, I’ll take a shower with my bathing suit on,” he tells me.

I shake my head ercely. “It’s okay. I won’t look.” But even as I say the words, I impulsively glance down. Shit. The magne c force pulls and my eyes betray me for a split second. I look back up, and I throw my hands in the air. “That’s the last me! I swear!”

His lips rise in amusement before he sidesteps to grab the washcloth and soap o the ledge. I now have a perfect view of his bu .

“Same goes for my ass,” he says with a small laugh, his back s ll turned to me. The lightness and humor in his voice relaxes my shoulders.

“I like your ass,” I tell him as he rotates to face me, a washcloth in hand.

“I know you do,” he murmurs. He laces his ngers with mine and draws me to his body. My thigh brushes his cock, and a breath catches in my throat. “You’re okay, Lil,” he whispers. That’s not what it feels like.

He runs the cloth along my arms and in between my ngers, soaping my skin. I am hypno zed by the slow, lingering movements. And then the cloth dips to my belly and rises to my breasts, circling each one with me culous care. I stagger forward a li le and grip onto his arm.

“Easy,” he breathes. “Think of this as a test.”

“Showering with you?” My eyes widen.

“Showering with me,” he con rms with a nod, “without sex at the end. I’ll wash you and then you can wash me, okay?”

I don’t know what comes over me. I just…don’t think this is real. So I reach out and pinch his arm.

He inches. “What the hell?” And he retracts his hands. No, come back!

“I-I was making sure this wasn’t a dream,” I explain. “I’m sorry!” I lean down and plant two so kisses on the reddened skin.

His chest rises and falls with full-bellied laughs. “You’re supposed to pinch yourself, dummy,” he tells me.

Oh, right. I squeeze the skin above my elbow. Ouch, that does hurt.

He draws me back to his chest, and his hands slowly skim my arms, ligh ng every part of me. His eyes icker to mine. “Am I real enough for you?”

Dear God, yes.

He talks easily as he returns to soaping my body, as though he didn’t just blanket me with Loren Hale seduc on. “Today we can do touristy stu alone together. Whatever you want.”

It’s our rst vaca on where Lo is sober and I’m in recovery. Our last trip by ourselves, we spent the weekend in Prague. We never even made it to a museum or Prague Castle. Lo wouldn’t let me wander the streets alone, so our me was spent in the hotel bar where I could pick up a guy and he could drink without us dying in the process. Now the memory just seems sad. We missed out on all the good aspects of traveling.

“We should see the Mayan ruins,” I say, excitement bubbling in my stomach. “Oh and turtles! I want to see turtles.”

“Sounds like a date.”

A date. A date in a foreign country with my boyfriend. A date in foreign country with my sober boyfriend. It sounds amazing.

And then the washcloth descends and all my thoughts whoosh right from brain. I hold onto Lo’s arms as he rubs the cloth on the spot between my legs. It aches for a deeper touch, for my body to burst with that familiar euphoria. But I remember something: This. Is. A. Test.

I plan to pass it. No ma er how hard it is. I focus on his eyes and not his hands. “Hey boyfriend,” I say easily, tes ng out the word. I rarely say it aloud to his face. Maybe it will distract me.

“Hey girlfriend,” he replies. “You okay?” His brows rise, a li le teasingly. I think he understands my physical state be er than I do at mes.

The washcloth ascends, leaving my tender esh, and I nod in reply, words escaping my head. The water beads our skin and caresses us in its warmth, provoking me to take him every which way. But I won’t. My sex life is in his hands. I won’t jump him. I won’t hike a leg around his waist. I’m restraining myself. Willingly.

I feel a li le good with the fact.

And then the shower chooses to have a manic episode, the water spur ng in ice-cold sheets.

Holy shit!

I shriek and spider Lo’s body to avoid the chilly spray. So much for not jumping him.

His feet slide against the wet les, and he almost falls. But he catches his balance and rights himself, his arms wrapping around my hips to keep me from toppling.

I just realize that my arms are ung around his shoulders and my leg is most de nitely midway up his waist. The posi on is not so innocent. But any arousal is smothered by Lo. He is laughing his ass o , his voice echoing in the boxed shower.

He cannot stop. Seriously.

“It’s not funny. This shower is a demon,” I tell him.

He tries to hide his smile, but fails. “If you’re scared of a li le cold water, how are you going to pet snapping turtles?”

“I’m not pe ng snapping turtles,” I say, lowering my leg to the oor. “I only want to pet the cute ones.”

He passes me a bo le of shampoo from the ledge. “Oh, so the ugly ones don’t get any love from you? They’re le out all alone, cold, un-pe ed?”

I frown deeply. He’s right. I should pet all of them. Even the scary ones. “Okay, I’ll pet the snapping turtles, but only if someone holds their muzzle.” Before I run my ngers through his hair, I soap his abs with the cloth and follow the taut ridges across his body, being methodical but not too focused on where this could lead—which is nowhere. I tune into our conversa on instead.

“I don’t think turtles have muzzles,” he says with another laugh.

“Snouts?” I ask, a li le confused now. What do you call the nose of a turtle?

“That’s a pig.” We debate the existence of a turtle’s nose and the di erence between Mayan and Aztec ruins while we nishing washing, and then we both step out of the shower and dry o . A er a long moment, I realize that I’m okay. That I’m more excited about spending the day with him than I am about having sex.

I don’t know if I’ll feel this way tomorrow.

But today…it feels nice.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LOREN HALE

MY NIKE SOLES sink into the sand, digging hard into the uneven surface as I run. The sun beats against my bare chest, and I hope that I sprayed enough lo on to avoid a nasty burn.

Even in the boiling heat, Ryke sprints beside me, keeping up with my lengthy stride. I try to run every morning. It helps with my cravings, especially in Cancun. I can’t take one step out of our hotel room without seeing a sloshed college student or a bo le of beer. Seventeen bars are on this resort alone. I knew coming here would test me to the limit, but I never an cipated how I would feel.

Yesterday with Lily was literally the only day that alcohol never crossed my mind. Not once. We snorkeled with the turtles and climbed to the top of a Mayan ruin. She never asked me for sex, and I never craved a drop of whiskey. But that was one good day out of many shi y ones. I want to improve our sta s cs, to lessen all the bad days un l they’re nothing but a dream.

I push harder, the humid air squeezing my lungs. Sweat beads my skin, and the pain that ripples through my muscles feels be er than my nagging thoughts. So I keep driving farther. I keep bending my knees and pumping forward. And Ryke never breaks from my side.

I know that if I didn’t care so much about Lily—or have Ryke here to glare at me—I would have already broken my sobriety. And then Connor makes me want to be a be er person—however lame that sounds.

But today we all split up.

Lily is shopping with Rose and Connor, which gives her a break from obsessing over having sex. Surrounding ourselves with other people is s ll new for us, and kind of exhaus ng, but we’re making it work.

I glance over my shoulder, and we slow down to a jog almost immediately. Melissa and Daisy are barely a speck in the distance. They were the only two that wanted to join us on a run. Unsurprising, since Lily looks like the Big Bad Wolf hu ng and pu ng a er a minute sprint, and I’ve never seen Rose wear sneakers in her life. Connor would have come along, but he didn’t want to leave Rose and Lily shopping alone in Mexico.

Our feet slow to a complete stop. “Connor’s inves gator s ll hasn’t come up with anything new?” Ryke asks, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, shirtless like me.

“Connor says he’s looking into it as quickly as he can.” And if his contacts don’t pan out, hopefully my father has be er luck. But I wouldn’t tell Ryke that I’m talking to Jonathan Hale. Nothing good can come from that.

“Let’s say, worst case scenario, it gets leaked that Lily is a sex addict,” Ryke says, uncapping his water bo le as we wait for the girls to catch up to us. “What happens then?”

My stomach churns at the thought. “I don’t even want to entertain the idea.” All I picture is Lily sobbing and unable to be consoled. Watching her in that kind of gu ed agony would kill me, but if we do go down that road, I can’t resort to booze. For once, I have to be there for her. She’s my best fucking friend. And she deserves the type of guy who can make her feel be er, not worse.

If I can’t do that, then we really shouldn’t be together.

Ryke studies me. “You s ll taking Antabuse?”

I give him a bi er smile. “One pill a day keeps the demons at bay.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Yes, Dad.” I stretch my muscles, pulling my arm over my chest, trying to relieve this built-up pressure. If the pill bo le wasn’t in my pocket—if I had le it in my suitcase with the other stolen luggage—I would have more tempta ons to drink. I was lucky for once.

I also hate talking about that medica on. Talking makes me think and thinking makes me want to fucking drink.

“I wish you would have told me about Mason Nix sooner,” Ryke admits, changing the subject once again, this me to one of our top suspects. Ryke is good at that—talking and revolving around di erent topics. I nd myself zoning into something, being immersed by his roundabout discussions like a whirlpool.

“Why is that?”

“We share the fucking gym at Penn. I see him almost every day. If I knew what he did, I wouldn’t have…tolerated him.”

“So what does you not tolera ng him look like?” I ask with furrowed brows. I picture him ramming his st into Mason Nix’s conceited face. Granted, I already did that.

“We may have had words,” Ryke says.

I s ll imagine a st ght.

“You know,” I mu er, staring at my water bo le, “for the longest me a er our freshman year, I kept thinking that I was in the wrong. I can’t even tell you how many res I slit. And Lily told me that she didn’t expect what happened that night, but she didn’t mind it either.” I shake my head, thinking back to our rst year at Penn. We both went to a frat party, the en re soccer team in a endance. Most of it is s ll a giant blur. But I do remember hearing guys near the kitchen discussing some girl on the second oor. Someone named Mason convinced a freshman to screw each guy on the soccer team.

One a er the other.

I didn’t have to be told it was her. I just knew.

I grabbed a bo le of Jim Beam, pulled out my serrated hun ng knife, and paced manically in the parking lot. I lost it on any car with a fucking soccer s cker, badge, iden ca on, whatever. They would have to nd

another ride home.

That morning, she was dazed and hung over, but somehow I pulled the truth from her. Mason Nix asked if she wanted to have the night of her life, and she agreed as long as no one watched. As long as each guy came in and went out like a factory line.

It was one of her fantasies, she told me. And it came true, but I saw how much shame gnawed on her a er that. She shrunk into herself and waited for me to stare at her like she was gross and dirty. But I just wanted to hold her and tell her that she was worth so much more than whatever she was searching for.

But I was a sel sh prick back then. I wasn’t willing to change our dynamic just yet. I thought if she overcame her addic on, then she’d make me overcome mine.

And now that’s all I want for us.

“I remember how you explained it,” Ryke says. “But fuck that, Lo. I didn’t know Lily before you two became a couple, but it doesn’t ma er if she wanted it or not. No self-respec ng man would o er something like that to a girl, especially one that’s drunk. You had every right to be upset and go a er the asshole.”

“Yeah…maybe.” But now Mason Nix could be the one terrorizing Lily.

Melissa bounds over in a steady jog, not winded in the least. She’s closer and closer to us, but Daisy doesn’t run beside her. My stomach knots, and I scan the beach quickly. I couldn’t have already lost Lily’s sister. It’s barely been an hour.

“Ryke…” I slap his arm and gesture to Melissa who’s alone.

Ryke searches the beach with a hard gaze, on alert. But we don’t show panic. We both look like we’re about ready to enter a UFC match, muscles

exing, spine straightening. Must be a Hale thing.

He taps my shoulder and points to a spot by the shore where the waves lap into the sand. I can barely make out the head of a tall blonde, cha ng up two local guys who carry strings of jewelry looped on their arms.

Shit.

Before I can even move a foot, Ryke has taken o . I follow close behind, hoping he doesn’t antagonize the locals. That image that I had of protec ng Daisy—yeah, I thought the ght would be between drunk, stupid guys. But these two probably wouldn’t mind whipping out a knife if things turn heated. I don’t want to be thrown in jail in a foreign country without a fucking passport.

Luckily, Ryke slows once we reach them, his eyes dead-set on Daisy, not the guys.

I join them as Daisy holds up two chain necklaces with silver Mayan coins on the ends. “These are supposedly handmade. I can’t tell though.” She shrugs. “I think I’m going to take Pablo’s word for it.”

My gaze dri s to the two Mexican guys, standing passively back with their backpacks and strings of jewelry, skin dark and weathered from walking up and down the beach. They look harmless, and I have a suspicion that Daisy approached them rst. She’s a li le wilder than I remember. Crazy, even. I’ve missed so much since rehab—or maybe she’s always been like this and I was just too drunk to really no ce.

“You can’t run o and talk to strangers,” I tell her. It sounds stupid and parental—nothing I would normally say. When did I become a person who lectures someone else on responsibility? Fuck—I’m turning into Rose.

“We’re not strangers,” Daisy says quickly. “That’s Pablo and…” She squints in thought. “Ernesto…I think.”

The bigger set guy nods at this and holds out a plas c bag to Daisy,

lled with more pendants and stones. “Onyx. Rubies. Sapphires.”

I narrow my gaze. “Do you have a gold brick in their too?”

Ryke catches Daisy’s wrist and tugs her to his side. She shrugs o Ryke’s hold, and her eyes icker behind her. “Melissa is glaring at you.”

Ryke doesn’t even check over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about her.” Melissa is about twenty feet away, arms crossed over her chest, wai ng for Ryke to rejoin her. But he’s abandoned his girlfriend to help me with this situa on. I won’t admit it out loud, but I’m pre y thankful.

“I’m just trying not to get you in trouble,” Daisy tells him.

“I can take care of myself.” His eyes bore into hers.

I cut in, “Daisy, let’s go.”

“Wait,” she says, raising her hand to show o the two necklaces. “Which one do you think Lily would like?” And now I feel like an ass. She just wanted to buy her sister jewelry.

Lily doesn’t wear necklaces o en, and the fact that I know this over Daisy makes me feel kind of good. But an uneasiness spins my stomach— because it means that our isola on has strained her rela onship with her sisters. And I have to remind myself that this trip is about rebuilding everything we’ve ignored.

I think Lil would like anything that came from Daisy. I inspect both necklaces, one with a black rope and the other with a chain.

Daisy brushes her nger along the rope necklace. “This pendant has a guy s cking out his tongue. I thought she’d get a kick out of it.”

“De nitely,” I say.

Daisy spins back to Ernesto and hands him the chain necklace. “Just this one.” She holds up the rope necklace to buy. “How much?”

“Two-hundred-and-sixty,” he says with a thick accent.

She gapes. “What?”

“Pesos. Pesos. Pesos,” he says quickly, afraid of losing a sale. “Twenty dollars. Two-sixty pesos.”

“Ohhh.” Daisy’s eyes light up. She laughs like she didn’t know any be er, but she spent all morning helping Lily understand the peso-dollar conversion before she went shopping. Daisy said that she became an expert at currency calcula ons in Europe during shoots and Fashion Week.

“Daisy,” I warn. And here I thought Ryke was going to cause trouble.

Ryke cocks his head at me, brows raised like I told you. Yeah, he told me she jumped o a cli , I didn’t think that equated to conning a local on the beach.

Daisy waves me o . “One minute, swee e.”

Ryke s ens and I just frown. What the hell is going on?

“I only have…” She pulls out a wad of cash from her bikini top like it’s nothing, like Ernesto’s eyes haven’t just zoned in on her breasts. She counts the bills one by one, really fucking slowly. “…Two-hundred pesos.” Her big green eyes rise innocently to Ernesto, but he’s s ll looking at her ts.

I step forward, irritated beyond belief. “Hey.” I snap my ngers at him. “Two-hundred pesos?”

Ernesto nally looks to me and begins to shake his head.

“Oh no,” Daisy says quickly. She wraps her arm around my waist and presses her head against my chest. I immobilize. “We’re on our honeymoon, you see, and I promised my sister I’d bring her back something. She’d just love this. I know it. Could you make an excep on just this once, please?”

My eyes widen at Ryke, but he’s just glaring, and when I mean glaring, I mean he has the whole Frankenstein’s monster rou ne down. Hard set jaw, clenched sts, taut shoulders, and ght lips. He looks about ready for a

ght. But I’m not sure who he wants to pummel.

“No. Two-sixty,” Ernesto repeats.

Daisy’s shoulders slacken and she turns to me, her hands on my chest. “Do you have any pesos on you, swee e?”

“No, so maybe we should cut our losses, dear.”

“Give me your money,” Ryke says, holding out his hand to her.

Her face lights up and she thankfully steps away and returns to Ryke, out of earshot of the locals. I follow close behind. “Are you going to haggle in Spanish?” she asks him, sliding the bills into his palm.

“Sure,” he says. “First give me the rest of your cash.”

“It’s all in your hand.”

“It’s in your boobs.”

I scowl, not wan ng him to say anything about her boobs. Ever. She’s Daisy Calloway.

Daisy looks down at her breasts with a frown, and I turn my grimace to the sky. I’m blaming this situa on on you, God. For allowing li le sisters to have breasts.

“I don’t see anything in there.”

“I would check myself, but I’m here with a girl,” Ryke says dryly.

Okay. No. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s speaking my fucking mind. “There are actually a million other fucking reasons you shouldn’t,” I say coldly, my blood turning to ice.

Daisy just ignores me and says, “Melissa le three minutes ago when you refused to go to her side. What’s your excuse now?”

She challenges him.

And he’s the type of guy willing to take it.

I stand between them before Ryke can answer her. I raise my eyebrows at Ryke in disbelief. I seriously thought I was dreaming what happened at the pool. It wasn’t fucking anything, I told myself. He was being nice, prodding her to eat a taco, even though he should have passed it to her rather than let her bite it from his hand. He shouldn’t have rubbed sauce o her chin. He shouldn’t have joked with her about fucking Melissa. There are so many things he should not do. But I let myself believe that he’s just an idiot. He doesn’t understand boundaries. That is Ryke’s biggest problem.

But now, how do I explain this.

“What?” Ryke growls in defense at me. “I’m trying to get us out of this fucking situa on.” He locks eyes with Daisy again and steps forward to try to reach her. I put my hand on his chest to stop him, and then I quickly turn to Daisy.

“Give me the rest of your money.”

“I don’t—”

“Now.” I can’t even hear my own voice or how mean it sounds. All I hear is my half-brother o ering to feel up my girlfriend’s li le sister. I don’t even fucking care if it was a joke or sarcasm or fucking anything. I think I’m going to kill him later.

Daisy’s smile instantly vanishes and she reaches into her bikini top again. I look at the sand, the sky, anywhere but her breasts un l she places the money in my hand. I grab the rest of her cash from Ryke and start coun ng out two-hundred-and-sixty pesos.

“I was just trying to have fun,” she says so ly, her voice layered with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

She’s apologized, and I know I should drop it. But I’m fuming. “There are other ways to have fun.” I hand Ernesto the money. Both guys nod in thanks and they walk o towards the resort near the string of straw huts and white cabanas. I look back to Daisy, and my nerves haven’t se led yet. “You’re the fucking daughter of a mul -billion dollar mogul. Bartering with a man that makes a thousand mes less than you is the equivalent of stealing.”

Her eyes go big and round and a li le glassy, and it hurts to know that I’m causing her distress. The pain in my chest only intensi es because I can’t stop speaking. I don’t know how. “Next me rent a fucking jet ski.”

“I just wanted to do something normal.”

“You’re not normal. None of us are.”

“Lo,” Ryke says, his tone warning. But his voice sends razorblades down my back.

“Don’t you even fucking speak to me,” I snap. I hate him right now. I hate me, most of all. I hate that I just bitched out Daisy, who didn’t really do anything wrong. At least, nothing that warranted my harsh words. The remorse tastes like acid, and I usually drown it with whiskey.

My next breath comes out ragged and Ryke focuses on me for a long moment. But when Daisy inhales strongly, staring at the sand with tears brimming, trying to bo le her emo ons, he turns his gaze on her. I watch his face change. If he was concerned for me, I don’t even know what to call the expression he has for her.

What the hell did I miss when I was in rehab?

“I have to get out of here.” I cringe when I realize I said it out loud. I start walking.

Ryke awakens and follows me. “Where the fuck are you going?”

His anger fuels me and I stop suddenly. He nearly knocks into my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss. “She’s sixteen.” I see Daisy in my peripheral, standing o to the side, looking on but not wan ng to interrupt.

“I’m not doing anything,” Ryke refutes.

My forehead hurts from frowning so hard. He can’t be serious, but I think he believes he is. That’s fucking terrifying. “Don’t be stupid.”

Ryke sets his hands on his head for a second. I’ve never seen him unravel, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to. “I’m blunt and abrasive,” he says. But he knows that’s not the answer I want to hear. “I can’t turn that o .”

“You’re going to turn it o around her,” I sneer. “And you know what, I invited you to Cancun, and I can uninvite you.”

“Are you uninvi ng me?”

“No, but I don’t want to talk to you or be around you right now.”

He grabs my arm before I turn around. “Wait.”

“What? You’re going to blame everything on the fact that you’re blunt? When Connor wants to be, he’s just as honest as you, and he would never say the things you do.”

“Because I’m a fucking asshole,” Ryke says.

“That’s not good enough.”

Ryke’s nostrils are and he points to his chest. “I was raised by a single mother, Lo—”

“So was Connor,” I retort. I give Ryke such a hard me. I make him hurdle the highest walls, and he’s taken each test without complaint, but I can tell this one is tearing him inside. And a li le part of me likes that he’s

nally breaking down. The other part hates that I take pleasure in someone

else’s pain.

“Stop comparing me to him,” Ryke sneers. “His mother was the head of a corpora on. My mother sat around all day and plo ed ways to fuck over my father. I spent years being torn between the two of them, having to choose sides, and I chose her.” He points at his chest again, his eyes blazing with heat. “I was made to believe that she was a saint and he was the sinner, when they’re both guilty of things that I can barely even stomach. Do you know what that’s like—to defend someone so vehemently out of love and then realize they were no more innocent than the man you hated? It fucking sucks.”

My chest is so ght that each breath takes force.

Ryke steps forward. “I love women and care about them more than you even fucking realize, Lo. But I saw my mother turn callous from that divorce. I say things that I shouldn’t because I stopped giving a fuck what people thought of me. I stopped trying to play the do ng son—the role that that girl is going through right now. And it’s fucking killing me to watch it happen.”

I’m assaulted with so many emo ons that I almost can’t see straight. I just keep nodding, trying to understand his point of view, trying to get it. “I need some space…” to think.

“I can’t leave you alone like this.” Ryke breathes heavily, and he hesitates to put a hand on my shoulder. If he sets one nger on my body, I’m going to jerk away. I’m so full of hate, resentment, and blackness— everything that normally sends me right to a bar.

“I’ll go back to the room with Daisy,” I say. “You go nd Melissa. You know, the girl that you came here with.” I don’t want to butcher him anymore, but it’s so easy to cut people, especially my brother.

Ryke takes the hit, not moving one inch. “You almost made Daisy cry. You really want to spend me alone with her?”

“It’ll give me a chance to apologize,” I say. “Either you take that scenario or I’m walking out of here on my own.” My hands shake, and I clench them into sts. Ryke would never leave me alone right now. I want to relax. To sit at a bar and just oat away.

Ryke mo ons to Daisy, and she jogs over. When she stops by his side, he says, “Don’t let him drink.”

“Okay.”

He hesitates before heading farther down the beach. We walk towards the resort in a heavy silence that weighs on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I end up mu ering while we wait for the elevator.

“No, don’t be,” Daisy says. “You were right. What I did—it was wrong. Some mes I just forget about money. I’m going to try to be be er about it.”

“Yeah, but I do it at mes too. And I’m not your dad. I shouldn’t be lecturing you.” Or anyone.

She smiles. “It’s nice to know you care.”

We stop on our oor and she walks in front of me, leaving me to think about that.

I do care. Is that because I’m sober or is it just because things have changed? I wish I knew.

Daisy waits by the door, and she suddenly pales with worry. “Are you going to tell Lily?”

She’ll ask me what’s wrong as soon as I get inside. We’ve been around each other enough to pick up body language, and mine says I’m losing my shit. I hadn’t intended on lying to her. “Yeah,” I say, “but I don’t think she’ll be mad.”

“Really? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lily in beast mode, like Rose’s eternal se ng, and I’ve always been kind of scared to see that.”

I smile as I try to recall an angry Lily. She does kind of look like a li le monster, but I nd it more adorable than frightening. “You’ll be ne.”

I don’t know if Daisy thinks I’m actually this upset just because of the bartering, or if she realizes I caught onto her ir ng with Ryke, both at fault, I believe. But I will never have that conversa on with her. Lily can handle her sister, and I’ll handle my brother.

Daisy lets out a breath of relief before edging out of the way. I slide in the keycard, and we enter the room.

Rose refolds clothes on the nearest bed while Connor organizes various bags that surround the room. Between what Daisy brought and now what Rose purchased, I think we’ve o cially clothed seven people for the week.

“How was the run?” Connor asks.

“Hot,” Daisy says.

I scan the room for Lily, unable to nd her, and then I look through the glass door to the pa o. She’s curled up on a chair, her legs to her chest, watching the birds or something.

I move towards the door, and Connor suddenly blocks my exit like he wants to have a conversa on. All I really want to do is talk to Lily. I need to know if she knew about Ryke and Daisy’s… Jesus, I don’t even know what to call it.

“What?” I snap.

Daisy focuses on us, lled with curiosity, and this causes Rose to pat her ma ress. “Daisy, come help me fold,” she insists.

Daisy answers her sister’s call—reminding me of what Ryke said about her. And I cringe a li le, not wan ng Daisy to be a ected by her mother. All these girls have complexes, and I can see how most people would get one just from the freedom of our lifestyle and the pressure to maintain it. I feel like we’re all a li le fucked up in our own right.

Connor leads me to the furthest wall from the girls. And I instantly understand what’s going on. He’s moving me away from Daisy so she can’t hear. Whatever Connor wants to tell me—it’s about Lily.

The worst thought crosses my mind.

She cheated.

She slept with some cashier at Bloomingdales.

She fucked another guy.

I feel the color drain from my face.

I feel my stomach roll in on itself.

My world slowly begins crashing down. I should have been with her. I try to move past Connor and reach the pa o, wan ng to talk to her, wan ng to make this right, wan ng to be alone again.

Connor steps in front of me once more and puts his hand on my shoulder. He reads the panic on my face, and says, “Nothing happened, not like that.” I don’t know Connor well enough to know what that entails and this just heightens my nerves.

“What did happen?” I ask quietly.

He stays resolute, calm, and for some strange reason it feeds into me. His casual a tude makes me believe it’s not that bad, and I wonder if this is a Connor Cobalt gi . To pacify people with his demeanor rather than words.

“Look,” he says easily, “Rose didn’t want to tell you, but I convinced her, I think.” He lets himself smile at the accomplishment. “She wants Lily to handle these things on her own. In a feminist’s perspec ve, I guess it seems like when you help Lily, you don’t give her a chance to be strong on her own.”

It feels like he knifed me, even though those are Rose’s words. “I’m not her fucking cure, I know that,” I say, trying to mimic Connor’s easy tone, but my voice comes out strained and edged. I’ve let Lily succeed on her own, but I am the person having sex with her. All I can do is tell her to stop, to guide her. She’s the one ac vely making the choice to ask me to have sex, to want to have sex, to give into cravings enough to let them control her thoughts. That’s on her.

“I know, and Lily will never be completely on her own. That’s what I told Rose. You’re sleeping with her, and sex addic on is a two-person recovery process. She sided with me on this one.” I think he keeps gloa ng to postpone the news.

“Connor. Just tell me.”

He nods. “I no ced that Lily can some mes zone out,” he says, “and I actually thought she was just a li le slow. But then I found out she was a sex addict, and I know fantasizing can be a huge issue with the addic on.”

I know where this is headed, and I shouldn’t be relieved. But a pressure li s o my chest. “And?”

“And it was ne. She zoned out a couple mes and Rose would reengage her with conversa ons. Then Rose had to try on prac cally every pair of heel in her size, and we both forgot about Lily…un l we heard her.”

What? She wouldn’t masturbate in public. That’s beyond what she’s ever done. My chest starts to hurt again. “Heard her? Was she masturba ng?”

“No,” Connor says quickly. “No. Not at all.”

Good.

“But we heard her orgasm.”

What? “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

“There have been numerous studies about the female orgasm. It’s not fully understood, but many scien sts have shown that it can be brought on by thought alone.”

She fantasized and had an orgasm. Out loud. In a fucking store. I know how embarrassed she must feel and it oods me, seizing my ability to even form words right now.

Connor takes my silence as an opportunity to keep speaking. “Rose made her call her therapist.”

I nod, but my feet are glued to the oor. I want to go outside and be with her, but Rose’s words…or Connor’s reitera on of them haunt me. I want Lily to be strong on her own. I can see her through the blinds, hiding in her body, and it doesn’t seem like she’s looking at the birds anymore.

She’s looking for a way out.

I turn to Connor, suddenly so relieved that he’s here. That I have someone that I can ask this, “Should I go out there?” I want someone to tell me what’s right. To put me on the correct path. I don’t want to keep making bad decisions.

“She needs you,” he tells me in a single breath. “Just don’t have sex with her. Easy enough, right?”

“Yeah, it’d probably be di cult on that chair,” I say, trying to smile, trying to lessen how much I empathize with her hurt.

“Not for you two.” He taps my shoulder, unfreezing me from my state and I nd myself moving onward. Towards the door. Towards her.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

LILY CALLOWAY

THE DOOR OPENS and I don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t speak. I want to disappear from this chair, this country, this planet.

Lo walks in front of my view of the balcony ledge, where I had literally considered tes ng my ability to y. He’s shirtless, but not even the curve of his abs could en ce me right now. He remains a few feet away from me, not closing the distance that draws tension like a black hole.

I nally look up to meet his gaze, my body numbing.

His eyes have become glassy, and he grips the railing behind him for support. On a normal occasion, before rehab and before recovery, he’d be sweeping me up into his arms. I’d wrap my legs around his waist and wish for sex to take away my humilia on, to remind myself that I’m good at something. I’m not worthless or alone. With every thrust and every climax, I’d be gone.

But now, the thought of doing that drives a hammer into my heart. I know with certainty that it’s wrong. I wonder if he’s keeping distance, afraid of that path that I might choose for us.

I don’t want it.

So I say, “I don’t want sex.” Tears gather in my eyes. “I just want you to hold me.”

They are magic words.

In one quick mo on, he is in front of me and then I’m in his arms and on his lap. He blankets me with his body, wrapping his arms around my small frame. I bury my head into his chest, the tears pooling out as he rubs the back of my head. I feel safe here.

We sit like that for a good while, un l his heart steadies and my breathing evens. What happened feels like a failure on my part. I screwed up and let my addic on win.

“I’m sorry,” I say so ly, breaking the peaceful silence.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Lil.”

“I feel like I let you down…let us down,” I admit. “We’re supposed to be ge ng be er.”

“And there will be roadblocks and setbacks,” he tells me, “just because you hit one doesn’t mean you let me down. If anything, I’m proud of you for handling it like this.”

“Because the alterna ve is me a acking your body.”

He smiles. “Something like that, yeah.” He tucks an escaped piece of hair behind my ear. “What did your therapist say?”

Connor must have told him more than I thought. I’m glad. It saves me from reitera ng the most embarrassing moment of my life.

“She said that I need to start coming up with ways to stop myself from fantasizing. Like focusing on homework or American presidents.”

“Basically what every teenage boy does to avoid a hard-on.”

I frown. I didn’t think about it like that. “I guess…” Then I shake my head. “But it doesn’t sound that simple. I understand how to stop myself from looking at porn and from self-love, but how do I stop myself from thinking. How does someone control that?”

“Prac ce,” Lo says. “I’m trying too. Believe me.”

I nod, knowing it can’t be much easier for him. At least thinking about booze doesn’t lead to an involuntary orgasm. I ush at the memory and groan into my hands.

“Maybe I’ll just remember the look on Connor and Rose’s face. I think that will keep me from fantasizing about anything for the next solid two-hundred years.”

He pulls me closer, rubbing my back soothingly, and then he kisses my lips in one quick second, tes ng it out.

We’re worse together when things are out of control, and during these moments we have to be careful. It’d be so easy to enable each other just to make us feel be er again, but being a couple also means being in mate. Comfor ng someone normally involves touch—a hug, a kiss, a hand on a leg—things that send me o the deep end. We just have to nd a balance.

“How was that?” he asks.

It felt simple and right. “Good.”

“I have a ques on, and I want you to know that I won’t be o ended if the answer isn’t what I want it to be. I just…I’d like the truth.”

“Okay.”

He takes a small breath and then his eyes drop to my lips again. He plants another so kiss, longer this me. I don’t move or force it into something else. I let him take the lead, and I don’t wish for anything more either. What he gives me is enough.

He draws back and looks from my body to my lips to my eyes, taking in every detail. “You okay?”

I nod again. “Just wai ng for your ques on.”

“Right.” He takes another trained breath. “Your fantasies—who was in them?”

“Me,” I say. “And you.”

“You answered so quickly,” he says in worry.

“That doesn’t mean I lied. I haven’t fantasized about anyone but you since you le for rehab. You’re like…the best I’ve ever had.”

His face seems to glow at the last line, taking it as truth and fact. As it is. His hand glides to my neck, caressing me gently. For the rst me, I feel in a di erent state of mind when he touches me. In part, it has to do with my talk with Dr. Banning. I asked her what I should expect when I see Lo, and she told me that he’d want to touch me, to comfort me. And that’s what I have to accept it as. Not all touching leads to pleasure.

A hug is just a hug, not the pathway to sex.

This type, it’s new to me because I’ve never allowed myself to be touched this way, at least not without the desire of it progressing to other things.

I think I like it.

His lips press against the tender skin below my ear, and I can feel the hesita on in his body when he pulls away. “How was that?”

“Good.”

“You don’t want anything more?”

“No,” I say sincerely, “not unless you do.”

He kisses my lips again, but this me parts them a li le with his. I don’t deepen it. I wait, and he deepens it himself, his tongue gently slipping in. His thumb strokes the back of my neck. When he breaks the kiss, he slowly rubs my wet bo om lip with his nger. I don’t even shudder.

I’m le ng him comfort me without having sex, without the fear of enabling me. We’re trying to be a be er couple, and I think this is what progress feels like.

His eyes glimmer with possibili es. “Is this your new superpower, Lily Calloway?” he asks me sweetly. “I can touch you now without feeling guilty?”

“It may not last forever.”

“Then I’ll enjoy it for now.”

For now.

I like that too.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER THIRTY

LILY CALLOWAY

WE REMAIN on the pa o to watch the sun set. The only me someone disturbs us is when Rose comes out to ask if we want anything from room service for dinner. I fear that they’re only ea ng-in because they’re nervous to leave us alone, but I don’t ques on her about it. Instead, I tell her to order us a couple burgers, and then she slips back inside.

Lo s ll has his arms wrapped around me as I sit on his lap. The sun fades into di erent shades of oranges and yellows. The opulence must spark my memory. “I forgot to ask how your run went,” I say.

“Oh…that.” His tone is dry and edged, not at all what I was expec ng.

I swivel a li le so I can see his face. He’s glaring at the sky. The pre y sky. This can’t be good. “What happened?”

He grimaces. “I feel like if I say it out loud it will come true. Can you try to inherit some telepathy in the next ve minutes?”

“I can try to guess.”

“That doesn’t sound like a fun game either.”

I narrow my eyes at him and try to put the pieces together. He was on a run, a perfectly normal run, with Ryke, Melissa, and…oh shit.

“Daisy. What did she do?” My li le sister has a habit of seeking danger. I know I land on the right answer because ny stress-wrinkles crease his forehead. It takes him a quick minute to tell me about the bartering on the beach, but when he nishes, he doesn’t look relieved.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, and it’s the part that makes me want to jump o this balcony.” He stops before spoiling the news, which only makes me curious and nervous.

“Are you going to tell me?”

He lets out a long sigh and rubs his eyes in slight distress. “I don’t even know what to call it, Lil. There’s so many words for it, but none of them really describe the situa on. Inappropriate and fucked up are my favorite ones though.”

I frown. “Are we s ll talking about Daisy?”

“And Ryke.”

His eyes icker to mine, taking in my reac on as he lets this sink in.

“Wait, what?” It can’t be what I think. That was all in my mind, wasn’t it?

“Daisy had cash in her bikini top,” Lo says. “Ryke made some o anded

comment about it and it led to…other comments.” His jaw ghtens at the memory and then his eyes land back on me. “Why the fuck are you smiling? I just told you that my half-brother was ir ng with your li le sister.”

I press my lips together, to try and hide it, but I soon surrender to the fact that I’m happy. “Do you know how long I’ve thought it was all in my head?”

This doesn’t amuse him. In fact, he straightens up like he’s ready to go assault his brother. “How long?”

I put my hand on his chest to calm him. “January…but I didn’t want to worry you if it wasn’t true.”

He lets out an angry breath.

“Do you know how many mes Ryke has called me a pervert?” I con nue. “I thought this was just another illusion from my dirty mind, like I was interpre ng something out of nothing and making it all up.”

“You’re not. Now move past that achievement and bring yourself down to my level.” He turns his body a li le more, so that we’re looking straight on at each other. “My twenty-two-year-old brother is ir ng, apparently not deliberately—I’m not even sure how that fucking happens—with your sixteen-year-old sister.” He waits for it to sink in.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. So what are we going to do? I’m worried that your sister is going to like him in a bad way. I mean, most girls are like babbling fools around Ryke. The fact that she’s not…I can’t even.” He runs a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is that Ryke is smart enough not to make a move on her, but Daisy probably doesn’t know any be er.”

“I’ve already talked to her.” On numerous occasions, but she keeps saying the same thing to me. “She knows that she can’t do anything with him. And…” I snap my ngers at the realiza on. “Ryke brought Melissa here, so he is clearly pu ng o the right signals.” Showing up on vaca on with a girl screams “taken” and should let Daisy know not to act on her feelings, if she does have any that extend beyond a friendship.

I kind of hope we’re blowing this all out of propor on and no chemistry really exists there. Because they have to know that nothing can ever happen.

Our mother would be more than just furious if she learned that Daisy even had a crush on Ryke Meadows. For one, his age. And two, he’s the spawn of Sara Hale. A er the separa on between Jonathan and Sara, my parents chose a side—Team Jonathan all the way. And with our mother’s incredibly high standards, I can see her wan ng something more for Daisy. Something be er.

Someone as a uent as Connor Cobalt or Loren Hale. Someone that has more to o er than a trust fund inherited out of a quiet divorce and hurt feelings.

Lo lts my chin so that I meet his eyes and come back to the present, pulled straight from my thoughts. “Then Ryke needs to stop ditching Melissa for Daisy,” Lo tells me. “I’ll have another conversa on with him… when I’m not picturing tearing his head o his shoulders.” His jaw locks at another thought. “He’s older. He has to be the one to take responsibility.”

“Can you blame him though?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can catch them. I’m so not used to defending Ryke Meadows, but being in his company for three months maybe opened me up to his ways.

My eyes widen, and Lo looks equally shocked by the words. “Explain,” he says.

“Well, it’s just…” I stumble. “Daisy is a high fashion model. She’s always around older people, and she doesn’t look sixteen. She has a career. She makes money and travels the world. Some mes she acts her age, sure, but most of the me she’s basically twenty.” There are moments where I even feel younger than her. I’m less worldly, less cultured, and less experienced (not sexually but for everything else, sure). “I can understand how that might be confusing for someone who’s a racted to her.”

Lo presses his hands to his face, more distressed than I’ve seen him in a long while, at least in moments that don’t involve craving booze. “That word, don’t say that word.”

“What?”

“A racted.”

Oh. “I think my fear is that the more we keep telling them to stop, the more they’ll just do it to spite us.” And what if nothing’s there but friendship and we involuntarily push them together. “…like two rebellious teenagers or something.”

He groans. “She is a teenager.” He drops his hands and lets out another breath. “This is so fucked up.”

I smile at this and nudge his side. “Doesn’t it feel good to not be the only ones?”

He meets my gaze with a lt of his head, and his lips try hard not to rise. “No, I like being alone on the fucked up island with you.” He nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck. I laugh, a sound that I didn’t think possible an hour ago, and he responds with two light kisses on my collarbone.

“So what do we do?” he asks me, intertwining his ngers with mine. I appraise our hands for a moment, trying to come up with a plan.

“Maybe…maybe we just keep them separated for the rest of the vaca on. Or try to.”

“But what about when we go home? What do we do about them then?”

“How many mes are they really around each other?” Daisy has school, and modeling occupies most of her me. Without her knowing about my sex addic on, she’s invited to less and less ou ngs with our group. Some mes I imagine telling her, but I don’t think it will improve our rela onship. And that’s what I’m trying to repair.

“Then we have a plan.”

He extends his palm like we’re closing a business deal. As I go in for the shake, he drops his hand and plants a surprise kiss on my lips. It takes me aback, but it sends li le happy u ers in my stomach. The kiss lasts longer than the others as he cups the back of my head and gently opens my mouth with his. I feel the brush of his tongue and more apping lls my belly.

He edges back a er a moment and I curl up in his arms. One thing is certain.

Surprise kisses are the best.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LOREN HALE

FOUR DAYS of pool and beach have le me a li le sunburned, tan, and

red. Lily and I have succeeded in separa ng Ryke and Daisy for the

majority of the trip, at least enough where they haven’t had any opportunity to really talk.

Tonight we’re all ea ng at an authen c Mexican restaurant in the city. Chips and dip over ow the table, and the noise gathers by a stage, which sits close to the bar. I draw back at Daisy’s threat to make us all do karaoke later tonight. Not going to happen, even if the youngest Calloway girl can be highly persuasive. She seems to bat lashes, give us those big green puppy-dog eyes and everyone falls under her spell. The frightening part, I think she knows she has this power too.

If I was Greg Calloway, I’d have her ass on the next ight home. But I know her father: a workaholic who pours his me in business, who believes love equates to money and the luxury he can provide his family. I’ve watched Lily accept that kind of love and move on, as I’ve done in a sense. My father wasn’t always around. You don’t achieve this lifestyle without sacri cing something.

I ask Daisy what her mother thinks of her being in Cancun. Lily con rmed that she has permission, but I’d like to hear it from Daisy’s mouth.

She hasn’t touched a single chip. Her hands busy themselves with folding a paper napkin into a ower. The one downside to separa ng Daisy and Ryke, she seems less inclined to take bites of food without pressure from him. His persistence is useful some mes. And I’ve tried to do the same “eat this” bit, but she gives me a look like I’m crazy for sugges ng an avocado, and then she dodges me with word games that spin my head. Ryke can keep up. I can’t. My lingo is clearly meant for sex addicts, not adrenaline junkies.

“Well, you know…” Daisy starts and trails o as if I didn’t ask a ques on. She looks around and taps a waiter on the back. “Hey, can we get a margarita pitcher?”

He stares at her blankly, and with Ryke in the bathroom, Connor takes the lead and translates for her. Apparently, I’m the only guy who slept in Spanish class.

“Daisy,” I say. “You didn’t answer the ques on.”

We sit at a circular table, so it doesn’t take much strain for Daisy to turn back to me. “Oh, sorry, what was it?” she asks innocently.

“Samantha, your mother,” I say dryly, already knowing where this is headed. “She doesn’t mind you being out here all week?” Samantha’s ways have always eluded me. She digs her nails into Poppy’s daughter, Rose’s fashion line and Daisy’s modeling career but leaves Lily alone. It’s strange and something I couldn’t quite comprehend before rehab. Being around them, I’m star ng to understand it even more.

Daisy is about to answer when Ryke and Melissa return from the restroom. No shame on their faces. Way less guilty than Lily and I ever were when we screwed during a meal. Melissa plops into her chair and grabs a napkin, wiping her lips.

Daisy sits between her sisters, and she basically stares straight at Melissa and Ryke across the circular table. I try to read her expression, but she stays guarded and nudges her rice with her fork.

Ryke mo ons to the suddenly silent table as he takes a seat beside me. “Don’t let us interrupt you,” he snaps. His eyes land on Daisy, who stares blankly at her rice, very interested in a pea that she unburies. It’s the rst

me Ryke has shown interest in Melissa with Daisy present. Usually

Melissa just hangs all over him.

“Daisy,” I say, urging her again to answer the ques on. My arm slides around Lily’s shoulders beside me, and she surprisingly keeps her hands to herself. Normally she’d have me unzipped by now. Yes, even at a restaurant. Her restraint is admirable, but I can’t deny that a horrible (mostly horny) part of me wishes for it.

Daisy blinks a couple mes. “Right. And no, my mom doesn’t mind. She was really happy that I could have a whole week to bond with my sisters. I just have to abide by my normal rules.” She shrugs at the last bit and claps her hands. “Should we start karaoke early?” She begins to rise from her chair, but both Lily and Rose put their hands on the frame to stop her. Rose pushes her back in.

“What are we talking about? What rules?” Melissa asks. She reaches into the basket of chips.

Lily cringes beside me, and I can see Rose’s icy demeanor turn even fros er at the topic.

Daisy eyes the chips longingly before pu ng on another smile. “It’s nothing.”

Ryke is slouched, leaning back on only two legs of his chair. He looks like an asshole. “You brought it up,” he reminds her. “So clearly you want to talk about it.”

Melissa rubs his thigh, smirking now that he took her side for a change. I should feel good about it too, but for some reason, I just feel really fucking awful.

“I did bring it up,” she nods to herself. And then she shrugs. “I guess the rules are simple. You know, no ge ng fat. No ruining your hair. No ge ng too tan. And no ta oos.” Her lips twitch. “So good news is—I’m free to contract an STD.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ryke says under his breath, only loud enough for me and Melissa to hear.

“That’s not funny,” Rose tells her, “and our mother may not kill you, but I would.”

“Only joking,” Daisy says, spor ng a goofy face before she turns to Lily. “How’s school?”

Bringing Lily into any conversa on usually de ects a en on, and it’s like watching a li le percep ve mastermind at work. Daisy’s good, and I wonder who else has caught onto her tricks. Which is why I look to Connor.

He watches quietly, observing everything like some analyst ready to type the social dynamic into a spreadsheet. He probably knows more than he lets on. I wonder if he’s predicted the outcome of everything, if our lives are neatly mapped out in his head with probabili es and sta s cs. Then again, he didn’t gure out that Lily was a sex addict.

Regardless, I think being inside Connor Cobalt’s head would be both terrifying and strange, and yet the most expensive amusement ride there is.

Lily begins to spout o some story about a professor with a bow e and lisp, trying to avoid any topic about Stats and her exam grades.

“…so he was old.”

“That’s not a story,” Rose tells her pointedly.

“It is. Just not a good one.”

“How are you doing in classes, grade-wise?” Connor s rs up the topic. “Sebas an is s ll tutoring you.” He doesn’t ask it more as con rms what everyone already knows.

Lily’s eyes dart to a man carrying a huge bo le of liquor. “Tequila!” she exclaims.

He turns to the table.

“You don’t drink,” Ryke reminds her, almost growling, even though the alcohol was, obviously, a distrac on. I don’t think she wants it, but I’m feeling a li le defensive today.

I shoot him a look. “She can have some if she wants.” I don’t want her to think she has to be sober because of me. I wouldn’t ask her to do that.

“No,” she says, wide-eyed. The waiter comes over and she physically pushes him away.

I grab her arms. “Keep your hands to yourself,” I tell her easily, not wan ng her to get in trouble.

“You’re on Antabuse, right?” Melissa asks me. “My step-mother took that for a while. She couldn’t even kiss my dad when he had a glass of wine. It made her so sick.” She mo ons to Lily. “Is that why you don’t drink?”

“What? No,” Lily says roughly, o ended. “I never liked drinking, really. But if I did, I wouldn’t care if I couldn’t kiss him.” She cringes. “I mean, kissing doesn’t ma er to me. In general. Not just with Lo. So…yeah. I could give up kissing.”

“I think she gets it,” I tell her with a smile. She turns bright red and takes my hand in hers. I lean over and whisper, “I’m glad I can kiss you.” I put another so one on her temple. Ever since her involuntary climax in public, she’s been allowing me to touch her without desiring more. We’ve even slept in bed without a pillow wedged between my cock and her ass. She doesn’t grind on me or ask for more. It’s just sleep. In a way, something amazing came out of something terrible.

The waiter starts taking everyone’s orders, and when I place mine for the sh tacos, I just barely catch Daisy’s words.

“I think kissing is overrated.”

Oh no.

Ryke tenses beside me, and I hope he’s hearing my fucking voice raging in his head right now.

“How so?” Melissa takes the bait.

Rose chokes on a bite of rice. She clears her throat and puts a hand to her chest. “This isn’t appropriate dinner conversa on.” Rose isn’t a complete prude. She swears and talks dirty like the rest of us. I’ve heard her curse out a three-hundred pound redneck for slapping a girl’s ass. Her language was vulgar and kind of hilarious. Rose just knows this is headed to a bad place.

Melissa rolls her eyes, not the biggest Rose-fan considering Ryke blamed her and Connor for shu ng the room down for sex. “I, for one, would love a sixteen-year-old’s perspec ve,” Melissa says, turning right back to Daisy. “I want to know how the younger genera on feels.”

“Totally,” Daisy says with a head bob. “So my theory about kissing—”

“There’s a theory?”

“Oh yeah. And my theory is that not kissing is sexier than actually kissing.” She holds up her hands. “Just go with me on this. Say you’re with a guy and you can tell he’s interested. There’s some heavy pe ng, some under the bra fondling.”

“We get it,” I snap.

“And then,” she con nues without missing a beat, “he goes in for the kiss. You pull back, refuse him an in mate piece of you. Tension builds, and every other touch, esh against esh, feels illicit and intoxica ng.”

“So you’re a tease,” Ryke says.

I’m about to curse him out, but Daisy cuts me o . “No, we end up having sex.”

Ryke doesn’t even inch. “If I’m not fucking mistaken,” he says, “you men oned sex being overrated as well.” When?! Rehab. I fucking hate rehab. I missed everything.

“That was un l I took your advice.”

This is a train I cannot stop, and I sel shly want the informa on I lost more than trying to halt it. “What advice?” I ask, my voice edged.

Lily taps my leg repeatedly in fear. She knows, but I don’t want to wait un l later to hear myself.

Daisy opens her mouth and Ryke interrupts, seeing my anger begin to boil. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

It’s bad. Whatever he said to Daisy involved sex, and my mind is already reeling. “No, I’d like to hear,” I say, mo oning for Daisy to con nue.

“Me too,” Melissa adds, shoo ng Ryke a side glare.

Lily buries her head in her hands. She’s the only one who knows what they said to each other. She was the only one who went to Acapulco besides Daisy’s friends.

Daisy hesitates now, and she tries to backpedal. “Just so you all know, my sexual experience before was less than stellar, and I had planned on warding o the male species en rely before Ryke talked to me.”

“That’s comfor ng,” Connor says atly. He has a nger to his cheek in contempla on, but his gaze is directed on Ryke, not Daisy.

I turn to my half-brother. “Thank God for your advice, Ryke.” I wear a bi er smile and slap him on the back, hard.

He jerks forward and almost ps over his glass of water, but he grabs it before it spills.

“Honestly, his advice worked,” Daisy con nues, trying to dig him out of a hole, but he’s buried too deep. “So really, you can’t fault him for saying it if it helped me in the end.”

“Seriously,” I say between clenched teeth, “if you don’t fucking tell me what he said, I’m going to ip the table.”

Ryke winces and gestures to Daisy. “Just say it.”

He gave her permission, but she’s s ll wary. Slowly and cau ously, she says, “You shouldn’t let any guy fuck you un l he makes you come at least twice.”

The table prac cally silences with Rose giving Ryke an unparalleled death glare.

Ryke and Daisy are both in the wrong. I know this, but I’m pu ng all my frustra on on Ryke. I don’t even know what to do or say, but if I look at him, I think I may lose my mind.

Melissa breaks the quiet. “What great instruc on for a sixteen-year-old.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

Ryke lets out a breath. “What can I say? I give good advice.”

Melissa slaps him across the face, the sound like a gunshot, and most of the restaurant quiets.

Ryke sets his chair legs on the ground, his cheek red. That had to s ng like hell.

“I need to talk to you,” Ryke says. At rst I think he’s speaking to Melissa. “Lo.”

I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes.

Melissa lets out a low laugh. “Really?” She rises and throws down her napkin. “I’ll be back at the hotel, not that you’ll care.”

“Wait…” Ryke stands up but he glances at me and falters.

“I’ll talk to her,” Daisy says, rising from the table. Melissa hates Rose. She’s not that fond of Lily either, but I’m pre y sure it’s Daisy that she despises. And I can’t say a word. I sit in my chair, replaying Ryke’s advice to Daisy. I don’t care if it helped her or if it was good—there’s a line there that I think he knows he crossed. Like he told me before—he just doesn’t give a shit.

“You won’t be able to,” Ryke tells her. “Just let her go. I’ll talk to her when we go back to the hotel.”

Daisy shakes her head, not taking this as an answer. She sprints a er Melissa.

“Fuck,” Ryke curses, running his hands through his hair. He turns to me. “Please, just give me a fucking minute, Lo.”

I’m about to curse him out when Lily says, “Go on.” She nudges my side, and I nd myself rising o the seat and following Ryke into the bathroom.

When the door closes, he turns to me and opens his mouth. But for some reason, I have to be the prick who has the rst word.

“You could have told me that story about your stupid advice on the beach when we were having a fucking heart to heart,” I fume.

“Clearly it wasn’t stupid if it helped her, and I didn’t think you’d take it well, obviously.”

“I am so close to punching you, and I can promise that it will hurt a hell of a lot more than Melissa’s bitch slap.”

He holds up his hands in peace, which doesn’t ease my temper.

“Let’s hear your apology,” I say.

He glares. “I wasn’t going to apologize.”

I make my move towards the door, fuck this shit, and he steps in front of me. “You can’t be that angry at me. Not over this,” he says coldly. “She’s not your li le sister. You couldn’t even tell me ten facts about Daisy if you tried.”

“Fuck you,” I shoot back. “She’s Lily’s li le sister. I remember her in diapers, so don’t try to defend yourself based on a goddamn family tree.”

Ryke has had enough, his sts clench and he looks ready to ght me. Instead, he actually uses his words.

“Don’t make me into the villain because you’re upset you lost out on a human fucking rela onship with her,” Ryke almost screams, poin ng towards the door. “Blame booze, blame our father, but don’t you ever fucking blame me.”

I stand my ground, seething. He’s right. I’m partly upset over all I’ve lost by drinking, and maybe I am being too hard on him. But I can’t stop what happens next.

“Do you want to fuck her?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and his tone so ens, less defensive. “No. I don’t,” he says. “She’s the last person…ever. I promise, Lo.”

This is where I have to trust him.

“Can I explain at least?” Ryke asks. “There is a reason I said those things to her.”

I run my tongue over the bo om of my teeth and shake my head, a laugh caught in my throat. “Since when do you have to have a reason?”

“Usually, I fucking don’t,” he agrees. “But that me, I did. So can I talk now or am I going to get the third-degree?”

I mo on for him to con nue.

“It was Daisy’s sweet sixteen and we were on the boat. Her friends were discussing sex, and I was not a part of that conversa on, believe me. They roped Lily into it, and she looked ready to ing herself o the yacht. I mean, she’s a fucking walking oxymoron: a sex addict who’s uncomfortable talking about sex.”

“She’s working on it.”

“That’s what I thought too, but she ran away from the girls. And when Daisy confronted her to talk about sex, she was ustered again. I was just trying to show her that it’s okay. That people can be comfortable about it. I knew I was going to cross a line, but I thought it was going to be fucking worth it. For Lily…and a li le bit for Daisy too.” He pauses. “It just happened, Lo. I can’t take it back, and I honestly wouldn’t.”

I think that should be Ryke’s mo o. It just happened. Or be er yet, throw in his favorite word. It just fucking happened.

I’m strangely calmer—mostly because I can picture Lily turning a shade of red, crawling into herself over all discussions about sex. Even with her sister.

“Are we good?” he asks hesitantly.

Saying yeah feels like a complete defeat, so I just nod.

WHEN WE RETURN to the table, everyone is gone. The plates are scraped clean and the chairs are empty. We exit the restaurant and spot Rose and Lily by a taxi van that hugs the curb. They hold Styrofoam to-go boxes and wait for us. Connor has the passenger door opened, speaking to the driver over the seat.

Daisy climbs out of the cab, her eyes set on us. She jogs to reach our sides. “So Connor couldn’t get the limo service to come pick us up early,” she says, catching her breath. “They were all booked, but I hailed a cab—”

“Why’d everyone leave?” Ryke asks.

Daisy gives him a stern look. “We weren’t going to let Melissa go home by herself. We’re in Mexico.”

I can’t help what I say. I’m so pissed at everything and everyone. “That’s funny, last me you were in Mexico, you had no problem leaving Lily and your friends to go jump o a fucking cli .”

Ryke shoots me a glare to drop it.

“That was di erent,” she says to me. “I wasn’t storming o angry. And I already apologized…I didn’t mean to upset anyone.”

“It’s ne,” Ryke tells her. “Where’s Melissa?”

“In the back of the cab, wai ng for you,” Daisy says, “I calmed her down a li le. She’s no longer looking at ights to go home, and I think if you make out with her, she’ll forgive you.”

Ryke rolls his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“She wants to know you care.”

“I do care!” he shouts, frustrated.

“You don’t act like it,” Daisy says. “Girls want to be the sole focus of your a en on. They want to be all you think about, all you look at and see. You’re more xated on chicken tacos than Melissa.” She pauses. “But if you’re sick of her, you know, you don’t have to do anything. She’ll just leave…”

Ryke stares at Daisy for a long moment, his features hardening.

I think he does want Melissa gone, but that will give Daisy the wrong impression—that he’s saying goodbye to Melissa for the youngest Calloway girl. And I don’t think that’s it at all. I think Melissa is annoying as hell, and he’d rather be alone than deal with her any longer.

He meets my hot gaze. He only has one choice, and the fact that he’s considering leading Daisy on makes me want to go back into the bathroom and strangle him.

“Fucking fantas c,” he says under his breath and walks past both of us towards the cab.

Daisy shakes her head repeatedly, but she stares at Ryke’s back, her eyes pinned to the spot even a er he climbs into the cab. Maybe Lily is right—the farther you push two people away, the more they’ll pull together.

When we reach the cab, I kiss Lily on the cheek and take the box from her.

“I saved your sh tacos,” she says.

I’m glad since I had nothing to eat. I was too concentrated on unnecessary drama than my food. She keeps her hands cupped in front of her, but I’d like nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and kiss her for a long, extended moment.

She bites her bo om lip, which shallows my breath and beats my heart. All my anger suddenly depletes as I imagine what I can do to her. How I could take her so hard and so fast that she’ll cry in such searing pleasure.

I am used to having sex with her every single day. And I know she fears that I’ll resent her for withholding sex, but the new frequency only makes the next me we fuck even headier.

I draw her to my chest and lean my head low, my lips brushing her ear. I want to whisper how she makes me feel and how I plan to take her so many di erent ways. But I can’t promise her things that won’t happen. I can’t even bring her to the beach to screw because that would be considered public sex.

So I just land on the truth, “I love you,” I whisper.

She stands on the ps of her toes and kisses me sweetly on the lips. I run my hand through her hair and then bite her shoulder playfully before se ng an equally chaste kiss on her neck. She shivers in my arms, and I don’t tempt her anymore. I fear that one kiss may drive her to want more. It hasn’t since her public humilia on, but I know it can be all too easy to go back there.

We climb into the cab, Lily and I on the middle seat, and Daisy squeezing beside her sister. Rose and Connor take the front, and Ryke and Melissa are happily snug in the back.

Ryke has Melissa pinned against the back of the seat. I can barely see her behind his broad shoulders. Si ng up, her legs wrap around his waist, and his body melds into hers. His hand disappears underneath her shirt, and his lips devour hers hungrily. She can’t s e a sharp breath as he sucks

her neck.

She grips his back, lost to his hands and his tongue. Lily is going to be jealous. Fuck, I’m jealous. While Melissa has her eyes shut, Ryke’s are open, and he meets my gaze while he bites her bo om lip. And he glares at me, basically saying, I hate that I have to do this. But it’s the right thing to do. And frankly, I don’t care that he’s pissed about it. Leading Melissa on— that’s ne (all she wants is sex anyway). Leading Daisy on—that’s not okay.

I turn my back to him just as Daisy leans over to slide the door closed. If she no ces Ryke and Melissa’s make-out session, she doesn’t say a word about it.

The cab bumps along the uneven street, the strip lit up in the darkness, club signs blinking and twinkling. Constantly calling me.

I open the to-go box and pull out a sh taco, taking a bite while Lily rests her head on my shoulder.

Connor spins around in his seat to face us. “Did you get your test score back?” he asks Lily.

She sits up immediately. And I curse him for causing her to dri from me. Even though Lily is technically the cheater here, studying old exams. “I’m doing well,” she says vaguely.

“That’s not really what I asked.”

Her cheeks redden. “Yeah, I got the test back.”

“That bad, huh?” He turns to Rose. “I told you that Sebas an isn’t that smart. He bought his way into Princeton. You should have let Joseph Kim teach her.”

“Sebas an is smart,” Rose refutes. “You don’t know him like I do.”

Connor wears a blank face, but if he’d show true emo on at all, I think he’d be upset by that.

“I actually did well,” Lily says.

Connor can’t hide his frown. “What’s well? A 75?”

I cut in, ha ng to beat around this bush, but Lily is too nervous to come out and say it. “She made a 95 on her Sta s cs exam.” Before Connor opens his mouth, I add, “She didn’t want to hurt your tutoring feelings.”

Rose beams and lts her head at Connor. “What were you saying about Sebas an?”

“Wait…” Connor holds his hand at her face. Rose’s eyes grow, incensed by the hand. I think she’s going to bite his ngers o . “Was there a curve?”

“No,” Lily says.

Rose grabs Connor’s hand. “Why can’t you believe that Sebas an is a good tutor?” she asks.

He covers her mouth with his other palm, not done grilling Lily. “Did you take Adderall?”

Rose smacks her purse at Connor’s chest, bea ng him with the damn clutch un l he drops his hand from her mouth. “That was unnecessary.” She points a nger at him.

And I swear, he tries not to smile. I think he’d like nothing more than to tackle her on the seat and make out with her as much as Ryke is doing to Melissa. “Rose, darling,” he whispers. “Let’s not jump to conclusions because of personal bias. I don’t know Sebas an like you do.”

“Exactly,” she says as though she won.

He ignores that and nods back to Lily. I think he may be smarter than Rose. If I told her that, she’d probably rip out my lungs.

“Lily, did you take Adderall?” Connor asks again.

She shakes her head quickly. “Nonono,” she slurs together. “I studied, Connor. The normal, natural way like you taught me.”

“And Sebas an clearly helped,” Rose adds.

Connor shakes his head. “No…something’s not right.”

Rose pokes his arm. “You can’t admit that you’re wrong. That’s the problem.”

“I know when I’m wrong, Rose, and I don’t think I am here.”

“How many mes have you even talked to Sebas an?”

“A couple,” Connor says. “He runs out the door the minute I walk in, and he barely looks me in the eye. Only liars and cheaters can’t meet my gaze.”

Lily sinks deeper into her seat.

“Lily didn’t cheat,” Rose snaps back, her glare darkening.

I chime in, afraid that we’ve suddenly ssured their rela onship, “Lily isn’t as stupid as you think. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Connor says. “I spent months tutoring Lily, and she never did be er than a C.”

“Maybe I’m just good at Sta s cs,” Lily shrugs.

“You bombed your rst two exams.”

Rose raises her hand to cut in like we’re in class. “Or maybe,” she says, slinging her cold voice back at Connor, “Sebas an is just a be er tutor than you.”

Connor cocks his head at her like she’s being foolish. “No, that can’t be it.”

She lets out an exasperated growl. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me,” he says ma er-of-factly.

She gapes. “I never said such a stupid thing.” That’s her go-to response. But she has turned bright pink.

Connor raises his brows at her and then pins his a en on back on Lily. “Did you cheat?”

Oh shit.

Instead of interrup ng, Rose waits for Lily to answer this me. Lily needs to stay strong here. Even if we’re inadvertently siding with Sebas an rather than Connor, those tests are important for her future at Princeton. We spent years lying to people about our addic ons. We’re fucking good at it, but I remember all the mes where I had to calm her down, to placate her anxiety about bbing in front of Rose and her parents. Lying eats her up inside more than it does me.

Lily clutches my hand ghtly, and with a steady voice, she says, “I’m being honest, Connor. No chea ng, no drugs, no nothing.” She nods to herself. “Things have changed. I’m just more focused now.” Her tone is sincere, something hard to reject.

I put my arm around her shoulder and watch Connor go quiet. But he doesn’t look a hundred percent sa s ed. I’d say he’s at least forty percent, which is good enough for now.

Before he says something more, Rose smacks Connor on the arm, and the two begin arguing in French. I can’t make out any of it, but I’m sure they’re inging curse words.

Lily cringes, watching Rose’s eyes puncture holes into Connor, her words sounding nasty. And he’s quick to retort back. Lil leans into my side and whispers, “I don’t like lying to her.”

I squeeze her arm. “We’ll make it right.” Eventually.

And then the cab hits a pothole and my stomach starts to twist in on itself, sending a shoo ng pain right through me. I touch my abdomen as it intensi es. I retract my arm from Lily and grip the door handle of the cab. What the fuck is happening?

“Lo?”

I open my mouth to speak, but a wave of nausea crashes into me.

“Lo?!” Her high-pitched voice quiets the car.

“Pull over,” I hear my brother say. “Pull over now!” My head is a blur. I plant my hand over my lips, and as soon as the cab stops and the door

ings open, I am on the road retching. My throat sears and my muscles

burn.

Everything starts coming up. But for each heave, my head pounds, my body aches, and I think some animal wants to crawl out of my stomach. It claws and scrapes and tears up my insides.

“Did he drink?” Rose’s cold voice pricks my ears in the background.

“What the fuck did you drink?!” Ryke yells at me, his voice louder.

I shake my head and puke again, cars whizzing by and honking their horns like I’m another drunken college student on Spring Break. But I didn’t have one fucking beer. Not even a drop of whiskey. I don’t understand. I don’t get it. I did nothing wrong.

Lil clutches my arm, and I brie y meet her eyes, and the ood of disappointment feels worse than this pain.

I did nothing wrong.

But I don’t have the voice to say it.

I’m too busy throwing up.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

LILY CALLOWAY

I SPEND the en re night with Lo in the hotel bathroom, wiping his clammy forehead with a warm washcloth and making sure he isn’t sick enough for a hospital.

I think we all overreacted in the cab. But it was clear that his illness wasn’t from food poisoning. He literally just took a bite of his sh taco. Food poisoning doesn’t work that fast. So we all gured Antabuse was to blame—which meant one thing.

He had alcohol.

Ryke yelled at Lo while he puked his guts up on the side of the road, but I didn’t believe that Lo could have been secretly tossing back whiskey shots or some other concoc on. Not when we were all si ng at the table. He’s not that stupid.

But there was an inkling of doubt creeping in. The what if taking over my mental process. Addicts lie. I just never thought Lo would start lying to me too. We have been a unit for so long that I didn’t realize I could be pushed out so easily—and without warning. I wondered, for a short moment, that if he could lie all this me about being sober, then he could be keeping other secrets from me. And I wouldn’t even know it.

Connor was the one to shush everyone’s doubts, including mine. He said there was a high probability that the sh was beer-ba ered, a detail that Lo may have overlooked before ordering. So Rose called the restaurant, and sure enough, the sh were not only fried with beer but tequila too.

Lo moves sloth-like this morning, brushing his teeth, prac cally hunched over the sink. He looks a li le like he used to before his sobriety— like he just woke up a er a night of binging.

“Are you okay?” I ask so ly. “We can stay here if you want.”

A stage is set up on the beach for an outdoor Spring Break concert, and we’re all supposed to be headed down there soon. I can’t imagine the chaos and noise being pleasant for him.

While I wait for his answer, I start the bathtub to shave my legs, normally I’d just do a quick shave-and-go in the sink, but we share it with

ve other people.

He spits into the sink. “No,” he says and wipes his mouth on a towel. “I want to go, and honestly I feel be er than I did last night.”

The bathroom door opens, and Ryke slips in, already ou i ed in a neon blue Speedo. Lo confessed about the bathing suits a couple days ago, and oddly Ryke would rather wear the scan ly clad ones than the trunks that Connor and Lo chose. He claims he gets a be er tan, but I think he likes the way all the girls stare at his ass.

I grab a razor, focusing on my prickly calves rather than his…area.

“How are you feeling?” Ryke asks as Lo starts applying sunscreen along his abs.

“Like shit. Must have been that bo le of whiskey I guzzled while you were all si ng around me,” he snaps. “Oh wait, no, that’s what you accused me of.”

“I already apologized.” His voice remains rough and he looks to me, distracted. “Lily, what the hell are you doing?”

Lo follows his gaze and rolls his eyes. “She’s just shaving her legs.”

“What he said,” I say, trying to concentrate so I don’t knick my kneecap or ankle. Those are the tricky spots. And since I’m only lathering my legs with a bar of soap, I have less suds to work with.

“Why don’t you take a shower?”

I let out an exasperated breath. “That’s so much more work.”

“You’re as lazy as Lo.”

I shrug, not denying it. Ryke puts his a en on back on his brother. “Did you take your pill yet?”

“Yeah.” He holds out the sunscreen bo le to me. “Can you do my back when you’re nished shaving?”

“I’ll do it right now. I’m done with this leg.” I rinse o my right leg and spin on the porcelain ledge. He sits down beside me so I don’t have to get up to reach his height. I squirt some lo on into my hand and start rubbing it along his bare back.

A sinful thought creeps into my head—of Lo turning around and taking me right here on the ledge. I straddle it already, the spot between my legs against the coldness of the tub. This is just bad. I try to smother my longing and any a rac on quickly. No sex. Not today. Not this week. The words don’t devastate me as much as they would have before.

Ryke keeps his gaze on Lo, skep cism creeping into his eyes. “Where’s the pill bo le?”

His shoulders tense. “Under the sink.”

I smooth out the white streaks along Lo’s skin, my ngers dancing along his back. I wish I could touch him other places, which I realize is my problem. I shouldn’t want to have sex when I’m just rubbing lo on on his back. Right? Maybe it’s not so weird, but I know my persistence to go further and farther is wrong.

I’m not supposed to go at all.

Which just sucks.

And not a good sucking mind you.

Nope, this is a bad suck, which I didn’t think could exist. But it does. This is de nitely a bad kind of suck.

Ryke rises from the cabinet a second later with the orange container in his hand, and then he pops it open, spilling the pills on the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lo asks.

Ryke moves them out into li le piles, and I suddenly realize “what the hell he’s doing”—coun ng.

Lo goes rigid as the same thought strikes him. But he shouldn’t have anything to fear. Unless…

Ryke starts shaking his head and scoops the pills back into the bo le. “Why do you fucking lie to me?”

“When did you start coun ng my pills?” Lo asks, brows furrowed.

“When you got them.”

“You had no right—”

“I have every right. You’re an addict, Lo. You lie, you cheat, you fuck around the rules to get what you want. I go behind your back because I fucking care, not because I’m trying to undermine your privacy.”

“Tell me what I haven’t already heard!” Lo yells. “I’m a cheat. I’m a liar. I get it. And if that bothers you so damn much, there’s the fucking door.”

Uh-oh. I should go back to shaving my leg. But I can’t stop watching.

Ryke’s face turns to stone. He grabs a bo le of water o the sink and hands it to Lo, along with a pill. “Take it.”

“Did you not hear me?” Lo sneers. He pushes Ryke’s hand back. “I don’t want it.”

It hurts to watch him deny something that helps him. “Lo,” I say so ly. “Just take it.”

He jumps o the tub ledge like I electrocuted him, and then squares o with Ryke and me like we’re the enemies now. “You two don’t get it.”

I stand up, not caring about shaving my le leg at this point. “What don’t I get?” I ask, choking back my hurt.

“Last night, I puked my guts up from mediocre sh tacos. I couldn’t even taste the tequila or beer ba er or whatever the hell was on them! Like hell am I going to have that accidentally happen again.”

“So read the fucking menu next me,” Ryke tells him. “Ask the waiter, ask the fucking chef. Don’t make excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses, but staying sober shouldn’t be this much goddamn work. I shouldn’t have to set an alarm clock to remind myself to take a pill. I shouldn’t have to spend ve hours a week in therapy.” Lo’s chest rises and falls heavily. “And you…it’s not fair that it’s so goddamn easy for you. Drinking your water every day, making it look like it’s nothing.”

“I’m not you, Lo. Don’t try and compare us.”

“How can I not?” Lo says, running two shaking hands through his hair. “You stand there telling me what to do, what’s best for me like you’ve been through this all before. You’ve never even taken Antabuse, Ryke. You don’t know how this fucking feels!”

I’m not sure what to say or do right now.

“I’m just trying to help,” Ryke says. “Stop pushing me away.”

Lo grips the sink ghtly.

I agree with Lo, staying sober takes more work than either of us thought possible, and obviously Lo and I are the type of people who only give ten percent of our energy. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve always been lazy, or if we’re just apathe c. But right now, in this moment, I care. I just hope Lo does too.

“It doesn’t even make the cravings stop,” Lo says, mo oning towards the pill in Ryke’s hands.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees, “but you just felt what it’s like to drink when you’re on it, and I’m pre y sure that’s enough to mo vate you to avoid booze.”

Lo hesitates. “Fuck,” he curses, rubbing his eyes.

“You should take it,” I tell him. “If I had a magic pill that made me puke whenever I looked at porn, it’d probably help.”

I don’t know if it’s me, or Ryke, or his own warring conscience, but something wins out. He turns around and accepts the pill from his brother.

Addicted for Now

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

THE REMIXED RAP song bleeds into the crowded area, swimsuit-clad college students pumping their sts in the air and chugging vodka straight from water bo les. I have the best seat on the beach.

Right on Lo’s shoulders.

The height gives me an advantage from the sweltering body heat and sweaty stench. I also have prime view of the stage, where the rapper in shiny shades saunters around and jumps in unison with the riled crowd.

Lo hasn’t le my side the en re concert. Not to buy a beer, go to a bar or to nd his way to liquor. I haven’t made a move on him or asked for sex.

We’re having unadulterated fun.

The song ends and I s ck my ngers in my mouth, le ng out a loud whistle as everyone claps and cheers and hollers. Below me, the rest of our group tries to remain together and not be pushed too far away.

Rose wears a black sheer bathing suit cover-up and stands rigidly among the crowd, petri ed by the closeness of so many bodies. Connor couldn’t be more composed. He’s like a chameleon, adap ng to the drunken, party-like atmosphere with ease. He keeps her close, his hands on her hips, and normally she’d probably push him o . But I think the fear of ramming into someone and beer being spilt all over her cover-up and chest outweighs her fear of in macy with Connor.

Melissa has all but forgiven Ryke. The make-out session helped in the cab, but the below the pan es groping solidi ed her plans to stay in Cancun. I would have been more jealous last night if Lo wasn’t sick. But his clammy skin and pale hue literally rerouted my whole mind. Even as I heard Melissa’s giggles from the deck, pitch black outside—I didn’t care all that much. I just wanted Lo to feel be er.

Melissa is in a good mood now. She sits on Ryke’s shoulders, clapping beside me as the next song starts.

A gust of smoke plumes up by my nose, and I sni the salty air. Joints are lit all over this beach, the smells overpowering, but this one is so near that I look down. Daisy stands directly in front of Ryke and Lo, a cigare e pinched between two ngers. At least it’s not pot. So there’s that.

She e ortlessly keeps the cigare e from burning anyone in close proximity, and she li s her head to blow the smoke into the air away from other people. Except me, of course.

I’ve let Daisy smoke on numerous occasions. I didn’t know my place to tell other people to stop when I can barely stop myself. I hate the thought of being a hypocrite. But I’m under the impression that Daisy only smokes recrea onally. I imagine that recrea on turning into a habit, which turns into an addic on. I just can’t bear for Daisy to go through what I am.

Before I can say anything, Ryke plucks the cigare e right from her

ngers and tosses it into the sand.

I don’t see her reac on because the rapper has stopped singing and starts talking, the music s ll going on behind him. “Now I want to see more ladies in the air! On shoulders now! Let’s go!” Girls start climbing on random guys’ shoulders, being li ed into the air like Melissa and me.

Connor doesn’t even ask Rose, probably knowing she would prefer to keep her feet planted rmly on the ground. Daisy taps a bandana-wearing guy in front of her. He gives her a long once-over from head to breasts— mainly staying on her breasts that t in a neon green bikini, the fringe accentua ng her boobs from a small B to a C.

“I’m light,” she tells him. And then she whispers in his ear.

Melissa is watching Ryke with the utmost scru ny, but he doesn’t say a word.

The guy breaks into a big dopey grin, which is not good. I am thinking sexual things—like Daisy whispered to him that she will return the favor of si ng on his shoulders. Sexual favors, of course. But maybe that’s just my dirty mind playing tricks on me again.

I put my hands on Lo’s head and glance down at him. He is glaring at the guy. So…Maybe everyone is just as dirty as me. I grin at the idea.

The bandana guy bends down to let her on his shoulders.

When she’s at my height, she turns a li le and gives me a high- ve, oblivious to the overprotec ve guys below me.

“Ladies! Say yeah!” The rapper chants.

“YEAH!” This is kind of fun. My smile takes over my face.

“Guys! Say fuck yeah!”

“FUCK YEAH!”

He con nues a por on of his song, the beat pumping and my view o cially gone with the amount of girls on shoulders.

“Now ladies!” He goes back to his talking. “It’s Spring Break! Let’s see those es!”

Wait. What?

I go s ll while the girls around me respond by inging o their bikini tops, as though the rapper said a magic word.

All I heard was es, which has the opposite e ect on my willingness

to free-boob. Everyone hollers in drunken excitement, eyes wide at the sight of nipples and springy parts.

Boobs of all sizes jiggle and bounce around me. I’m slapping Lo’s face, his nose, his cheek—get me down. Down. I need down. Now.

Beside me, Melissa has already pulled the string to her top. Which is cool. She has pre y boobs. She drops her top on Ryke’s head. He grabs it and looks up, exactly what she wanted.

I have nothing much to show o , and I am easily embarrassed. Clearly.

I do see a few other girls lowering from the air, not wan ng to take part in this either.

“Daisy!” Rose screams from the ground.

Just as Lo sets me on my feet, I crane my neck and spot Daisy ngering the clasp on her back.

“Daisy!” I shout with wide eyes, equally as mor ed as Rose. I do not

want anyone to see my sixteen-year-old sister’s boobs. If she wants to tear o her bikini top in two years then so be it—but not now.

Lo plants his hands on my shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, trying to divert his eyes.

Daisy just looks at me, grinning from ear to ear.

Rose is about to swallow her anxiety and push through all of these bodies to reach Daisy and wring her neck. But then Daisy drops her hand with a laugh.

“Scare you?” she asks, waggling her brows.

Yes. She scared me, but at least she had no inten on of doing it. That has to count for something.

Her eyes icker beside me. Not to Lo, but to Ryke. His normally hard features are darkened slightly. And I think he’s trying really, really hard not to call Daisy a tease, just to piss her o and start something.

It’s what he does.

The longer she stares at Ryke, the more her smile fades. She turns her back to us, hunches forward and says something to the bandana guy. He lowers her to the ground, safely on Earth, and before she returns to our group, she con nues talking with him, even with the loud music.

She nods a lot. He smiles even more. I don’t like it. Because he looks in his late twen es and she’s just a teenager.

And then his hand rests on her hip and starts traveling to her ass.

“I’m thirty seconds,” Lo says under his breath, his eyes ickering to Ryke.

“I’m een.”

I frown. For what? To intervene?

Connor looks between them. “You both can’t be serious.”

Ryke glances at his watch. “Five…”

“She’s a smart girl,” Connor reminds them.

“She’s sixteen,” Lo says.

“Three…”

And then the guy slaps her ass, and Ryke is about to drop Melissa on the ground. But Daisy just smiles and waves goodbye to the guy and comes over to us. When she meets our faces, her smile contorts into a frown, confused like I was. Now I’m pre y posi ve there’s too much testosterone pumping in this area.

“What’s up with all of you?” Daisy asks. “Lo, you look like you’re going to pop a blood vessel.” He does. But she tries to shrug it o . “That guy told me a good place to swim with sharks. Anyone up for it?”

Everyone stays quiet.

And she de ates again. “What? What did I do?”

“That guy prac cally stuck his hand down your bathing suit,” Ryke tells her, “and you didn’t care.”

Melissa has her arms crossed over her chest. Her mood is slowly tanking.

Rose shoots me a harsh look and mouths girl me. Yes. De nitely.

I take Daisy’s hand, wan ng air too but mostly wan ng Daisy out of their judgmental gazes for a second.

“Wait, I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says. “He was just being nice.”

“Are you really that naïve?” Lo ques ons. “Because if you are, we should consider sending you home before something terrible fucking happens.”

“I’m not naïve,” she says. “He was happy.”

Ryke cringes. “You let him slap your ass because it made him happy?” Yeah, that doesn’t sound right.

“Okay,” I interject. “We’re leaving. Right Rose?”

“Yes.” She sets a glare on each of the guys.

Connor raises his hands. “I didn’t say a word.”

Her eyes so en at him. “You’re exempt.”

“Daisy,” Ryke says with so much emo on to the name that shivers run down my arm. And it’s freakin’ hot out here. I think he wants to say a lot of things to her—give her some sort of pep talk about how she doesn’t have to please other people to make herself feel be er—that doing so will hurt her in the end. But Melissa leans her head down and starts whispering in his ear, deterring him from speaking his mind.

So Daisy says, “I’ll see you around.” And she actually drags me o towards a ki bar that sits on the beach. Rose races behind us, wan ng out of the mobs of people too.

We rest our elbows on the counter, and I buy a water bo le while Rose and Daisy wait for the bartender to blend their margaritas.

Rose raps her nails on the counter, antsy as always. “Daisy,” she says. “Do you have something you need to tell us?”

Daisy stands between Rose and me, and she rocks on the balls of her feet. “I’m not going to sleep with that guy,” she says. “I wouldn’t. I just told him I thought he was good looking, and then a erwards, I asked him about sharks.”

I frown. “Really?” It was that PG? Maybe all of us are so focused on sex. We’re the gross ones.

“I mean, he said some sugges ve things, but I wasn’t trying to irt back. Honest.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m used to it.”

“Which part?” Rose asks icily. “The touching or the ir ng? Because if you’re going on photo shoots where the crew is pu ng a hand on you—”

“Nonono,” she says, slurring the word like me when I’m trying to cover up a lie. “That has never happened. Mom comes with me. She wouldn’t let anyone touch me inappropriately.”

Rose believes her. She nods, but I stare at Daisy for a long me, not as trus ng. Maybe because I have lied for so long that I can see right through it.

Daisy meets my worried gaze and she wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m okay, Lily.”

I don’t feel like she is.

I remember being young, trying to navigate what’s wrong and what’s right in a place where lines blur so very o en. But I had Lo to fall back on— to make sure I didn’t fall o the deep end and drown.

Daisy is thrust into this modeling world without all of us there to catch her. She’s alone and confused. And I’m not sure how to x that without telling her to quit. But she would never leave—not because of the money but because her career is related to our mother’s happiness. And keeping our mother happy makes Daisy happy.

My phone vibrates, and I check the caller ID. Poppy.

I click o the phone and slip it back into the pocket of my jean shorts.

“Who was that?” Daisy asks, talking over the loud blender.

“Poppy.”

Rose glares at the bartender for being so slow, and Daisy’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why would you hang up on her?”

“I just don’t feel like talking.” It’s the truth. And anyway, my rela onship with Poppy is distanced at best. She’s six years older, so by the me I entered ninth grade, she was two years into college and engaged.

Rose’s phone rings, and she answers the cell on the rst chime. “Hello, Poppy.” She gives me a sharp look, but nothing nearly as upset as Daisy right now.