Cover

Thrive

THRIVE: AN ADDICTED

NOVEL

BY KRISTA & BECCA RITCHIE

Thrive

ABOUT THE BOOK

THRIVE

Two years will change them forever.

When rumors spread like wild re—like having three-ways with her

boyfriend’s rock climbing brother—Lily Calloway spirals into a dark place.

Her bedroom. Loren Hale is more con dent and determined to keep their

sex life private, even from their friends, and he helps Lily in the only way he

knows how. But how much love is too much?

Their lives are lmed, watched, and cri cized. And through it all, Lily and

Loren have to face enemies they never thought they’d see, demons they

don’t know if they should bury, and setbacks they didn’t think they’d meet.

Not this soon.

And one rumor could be too much for them to handle. It will test their

greatest limita ons, and if they don’t hold onto each other, someone is

going to drown.

Thrive

PLAYLIST

Set Me Free - Feel My Pain - Charlie XCX Sleep Forever - Portugal. The Man Skin & Bones - David J. Roch Basic Ins nct - The Acid We Are Stars - The Pierces Grins - Charli XCX Burn - The Pre y Reckless Wai ng - Alice Boman Byegone - Volcano Choir The Cold - Exitmusic Sacrilege - Yeah Yeah Yeahs Animal - Miike Snow Retrograde - James Blake My Silver Lining - First Aid Kit Take Me to Church -Hozier Diamonds - Johnnyswim

Listen to the THRIVE playlist on Spo fy

Also nd individual character playlists on Spo fy

Thrive

PROLOGUE

2 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

LILY CALLOWAY

LIFE MOVES TOO SLOWLY.

Loren Hale told me that once. When we were sixteen, lying on his bed with comic books spread around us. He clutched a bo le of Maker’s Mark to his chest and took a long swig.

For Lo—one minute on this Earth was a century. He was wai ng for someone to end the pain of living.

Today he told me: Life moves too quickly.

A er these two years, I have to agree.

Life does move too quickly. And I can’t predict a second of it.

PART ONE

PART ONE

“You know I am not good with words. Or anything else.”

— LAURA KINNEY, X-23 VOL 3 #1

Thrive

CHAPTER ONE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 00 MONTHS

AUGUST

WHENEVER I ENVISIONED my twenty- rst birthday, it included lots of booze, maybe some drugs, and a giant pack of male strippers. A giant pack. Possibly even the kind of strippers that give you a li le something special at the end. That imagina on belonged to a di erent Lily. From a di erent

me. Possibly a di erent cosmic universe. At least that’s what it feels like.

My twenty- rst birthday, in actuality, is far less toxic. And the only men I’m celebra ng with happen to be my boyfriend and his brother—as far from male strippers as I can get.

In fact, I had proposed a nice birthday in front of the television, but Lo dragged me out of the house, seducing me with my favorite place in Philly: Lucky’s Diner. I previously told my sisters that I would not be having a party, and this impromptu event resulted a er Lo found out. Now I kinda wish I invited Rose or Daisy or even my eldest sister Poppy.

A long wave of awkward silence passes between Ryke and me, and I silently beg Lo to return to the table. But he stands by the hostess podium, s ll talking to the manager about closing the blinds.

Ten cameramen are sta oned outside of the diner, some he ier cameras perched on their shoulders, the lenses pressed to the glass window. A week ago we learned that Ryke’s mom leaked my sex addic on to the press, the reason I am now on the front page of tabloids and discussed across social media.

Ryke keeps blaming himself, even when we tell him not to. If anything, this is all my fault. I’m the one who went down this path. If it wasn’t true, it’d be a di erent story, right? But I’m a sex addict. Everyone knows it. And now we have to gure out how to deal with this spotlight.

The quiet grates on me, and I instantly break it without thinking. “You know what’s funny, I always thought today would consist of a pack of male strippers,” I blurt out. Why, Lily, why? I look anywhere but his face, already feeling my cheeks heat.

“A pack?” Ryke says in disbelief. “Men are fucking people too, Lily. Can you not talk about them like you’re ordering a case of beer? And…what the fuck?”

I think he should have started with what the fuck. But I let that go.

He adds, “Don’t tell me you used to look at men and only saw another dick to ride.”

I ush but manage to reply despite my embarrassment. “Used to. Key word. Past tense,” I say quickly. “Now I see all the other anatomy.” I wave my hands towards him and then realize what I’m doing. “Not that I ever thought about you as just a dick. I mean, I thought you were a dick, but the metaphorical kind. Not the kind I would ride.” Holy shit. I just need to shut up.

“You have some serious fucking issues, Calloway,” Ryke snaps.

“So says you and the rest of world,” I mu er and tear open a packet of sugar. I try hard to avoid the cameras that click click click behind the giant glass window.

His eyes so en and he shakes his head before le ng out a gnarled groan. “Look,” he says, “it’s your birthday. I didn’t get you anything—”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“Let me fucking nish.”

I roast again.

And he shakes his head. “You have to stop, Lily. Everything I say isn’t sexual.”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“I was going to say, I didn’t get you anything yet. What would you like?”

What would I like? There are too many things I want, but most of them have to be acquired by supernatural forces.

“Are you a warlock?” I end up asking him.

“What?” His eyebrows knot.

“Never mind,” I mumble quickly. The cameras suddenly ash in quick succession. I slouch further in the booth, so low that I’m prac cally hiding underneath the table.

“Get a fucking grip.” Ryke glares.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” I hiss. I don’t know why I’m hissing. The diner isn’t even half-full, but I’m sure it’ll be packed within the hour now that we’re here.

“I was invited,” Ryke retorts.

“By Lo,” I whisper, “who somehow forgot that the press thinks you and I are hooking up. We don’t need to give them another reason.”

“So because I’m having lunch with my brother and his ancée, we’re obviously fucking.” He gives me a hard look. “Makes complete sense.”

“Don’t say the f-word,” I reply. “It gives me hives.”

He glowers. “You’re ge ng married in less than a year. That isn’t fucking changing, Lily. You’re going to have to accept it.”

“I accept nothing,” I say lamely.

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve stopped making sense ten minutes ago.”

I’m about to refute, but Lo walks back to our booth, his cheekbones sharpened in aggrava on. Shit. As he slides in next to me, he swi ly grabs my arm to li me from my slouched posi on, as if it was the most natural course of ac on for him, as though he’s done this a thousand mes with me.

Has he?

All I know for certain is that my hiding place is gone.

Damn.

“He won’t close the blinds,” Lo tells us. “He says that it’s good publicity for the diner.” At least they were honest and upfront about it.

“Maybe we should leave.” I throw it out there. Just like that. Wow that feels be er. I wait for one of them to catch it. I spring up from the table, already expec ng them to agree.

“No,” Lo says, his hand on my shoulder, forcing my bu back to the seat. Double damn. “Today’s your birthday, and you haven’t been out of the house in a week.” His arm ts around my waist, and I take a deep breath and lean into his warm body. I would like to admit that all my thoughts are chaste in this moment, but a brief icker of a naked Lo lls my mind.

Of his muscles, his lean body…Naked Lo has a nice ass and a very large —

“Again,” Ryke says roughly, eyes on me, crushing my dirty thoughts. “What do you want for your birthday?”

Cock.

I have to close my eyes while I curse my brain from automa cally jumping to that.

“She wants something that you can’t give her,” Lo answers for me.

“Like telekinesis and teleporta on,” I blurt out, just in case Lo was thinking about the other thing Ryke can’t give me.

“I was referring to sex, but that too, yeah,” Lo says. Today isn’t going so well. Nope.

I hide my face in my hands and I wait for the perfunctory click click click of the cameras. Any second now.

Click.

Click

Click

There it is.

I don’t come out from my hand-fort.

“Lily…” Lo starts, concern in his voice.

“I don’t want to talk about sex or cock,” I blurt out.

A man clears his throat.

Shit.

I look over guil ly. The waiter stands at the end of the table with his notepad in hand. His gaze lands anywhere but on me. I might as well wear a walking road sign that says: Pervert and Sex Addict.

“What can I get you to drink?” he asks.

“Waters all around,” Lo orders. The waiter leaves, and the diner door jingles as more young people enter: teenagers or college students. They gather in a nearby booth and whip out their cellphones, snapping photos.

Hiberna ng in our home sounds much more pleasant than this. Maybe the bears know something we don’t.

Ryke unzips his leather jacket. “It’s your twenty- rst birthday; does that mean you’re drinking tonight?” He sets the jacket aside, wearing a plain gray tee.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m going to forgo those tradi ons.” My reasons extend beyond Lo being a recovering alcoholic. I want to remember tonight, especially if it involves sex.

“She lived vicariously through my twenty- rst,” Lo adds. I did. It wasn’t pleasant.

Someone bangs on the window by my ear, and I jump so fast that I knock my water glass over. Ryke curses under his breath and mops up the spill with a napkin before I have the chance.

A cameraman raps the glass with his st again, and my eyes gullibly follow the noise.

The ashes go o like busted light bulbs. And then the table of teenagers erupts in laughter, their gazes i ng to our booth and back away. My nerves spike, especially as more and more bells clink together, signaling a rush of people entering Lucky’s.

We’re going to su ocate in here or be a acked or worse. There’s always a worse.

And I let Garth, my bodyguard, go home early. Mob mentality will overtake three people. Two’s a company, three’s a crowd, right? That makes four a mob. We’re down a man.

“Lily, calm down,” Lo whispers, his palm on my cheek, his thumb stroking my smooth skin. “Hey, what’s going on in your head?”

Nonsense. Fear. All of the above.

I don’t have a chance to answer him. The waiter returns with his notepad in hand, ready to take our orders. I haven’t even looked at the words on the menu (even if I almost know it by heart).

The sad thing: I’m craving a hot dog. Literally. But I know photographs of me, mouth wide open with a wiener between my lips, will end up on the front page of every tabloid. Could I cut it up and eat it? Maybe, but it’s not the same.

My eyes dri along the salad op ons, slowly je soning my stomach’s cravings.

“And you?” the waiter asks me. I didn’t even hear what Lo chose.

“I’ll…just have the soup of the day.” Safe. But I can’t hide the disappointment from my face as I pass the plas c menu to the waiter.

Lo stares at me like I grew three horns. “You hate broccoli and cheddar soup.” Oh. That’s right.

“Maybe theirs is be er.” I shrug, avoiding his amber eyes.

Then Lo starts to climb out of the booth. The teenage girls squeal because he’s about ve feet from their table. He never breaks his focus from me. “I need to talk to you.” He nods to the bathroom.

Ryke’s brows rise. “That’s not fucking suspicious at all.”

Lo sets his hands on the table and leans closer to his brother. “I can talk in front of you but not the y other people in this place.”

Just as he nishes his declara on, another group of people breezes into the diner and collects behind a growing line.

Now there are no free tables.

My thighs squeak against the cheap plas c seat as I scoot towards the end of the booth. Loren straightens up and waits for me. When I’ve successfully le my hiding spot behind, Lo rests a hand on the small of my back and guides me to the bathroom.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWO

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 00 MONTHS

AUGUST

WE ENTER THE UNISEX BATHROOM, the single kind without stalls. As soon as the door shuts, he ips the lock.

When he faces me, his eyes cloak with unmistakable concern. “What’s wrong?”

Great. I’m so transparent that he’s pulled me away for a powwow in the bathroom—over hot dogs. It’s slightly pathe c, which is why I blurt out, “Nothing.”

He grinds his teeth. “Lily.”

“Lo.”

“Don’t Lo me. You’re upset and not telling me why.” He crosses his arms over his chest and blocks the door, maybe realizing I’d be dar ng out of it right about now. “We’re not leaving un l you explain.”

“You’re making a drama c scene over nothing,” I whisper-hiss. “Seriously, you’re gonna feel awfully stupid.”

“Why are you whispering?” he asks. “And let me decide if it’s stupid or not, Lil.”

I let out a defeated sigh. “Hot dogs,” I confess. “I wanted a hot dog for lunch.” I wait for laughter and the seriously, Lily? but it never comes. He stares at me for a long moment, processing, and his brows begin to bunch together in this frustrated manner.

“I’m sorry,” he says so ly.

I shake my head. “Sorry should be saved for rejec ons to colleges, breakups and funerals. Not for a girl who can’t eat phallic foods in public.”

“You know this is more than that.”

I suppose my life has been changing a lot these past few months. I was never normal, but the fact that this scandal has taken away the op on of being normal—that hurts. I contemplate everything for a second.

Then I mu er, “I just don’t want to feel sorry for myself anymore.” I don’t deserve to wallow in self-pity. Like my mom has said numerous

mes, this is my bed, and I’m going to have to sleep in it, dirty sheets and

all.

He walks forward, closer, and my heart thumps with each inch squashed between us. When his arms wrap around my neck, it takes all of my energy to stay at on my feet and not jump him right here.

I stay grounded and channel my inner-statue, probably the least sexy posture I can muster.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells me. “As long as ‘not feeling sorry for yourself’ doesn’t connote holing up at home.”

“Maybe a li le. Like half. Half-connotes,” I admit.

He tries really hard not to smile, so I suppose I win. Or half-win. Or would that be a draw?

His heady amber eyes fall to my lips, and my heart bashes against my ribcage, as if telling me now now now. But I don’t say a word.

His hand slowly rises up my neck, clutching the back of my head while his gaze devours me whole. Any chance to breathe has been thwarted by the desire fueled in his eyes, the one that I’m sure I share. My lips part, and he watches me closely, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine.

He teases me rst, kissing my cheek so lightly.

I whimper, “Lo.”

And then his lips meet mine with carnal despera on, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. He li s me up around his waist, his hand lost in my hair, his other keeping me rm against him. My palms disappear beneath his black crew-neck, dying at the ridges of his abs, at his closeness. I don’t unbu on him.

Not yet anyway.

But the spot between my legs pulses, and I ghten my thighs around his waist so hard that he groans in arousal. He stares at me while we both catch our breath for a second.

My lower back digs into the porcelain sink, and Lo never removes his narrowed, intense gaze from mine, the one that unravels me completely, that soaks my pan es and leaves me bare.

He skillfully unbu ons my jean shorts and adjusts me so they slide o both legs. His slow pace speeds my heart, fearful that it’ll end at any second.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, prac cally pan ng for oxygen.

“I’m not going anywhere.” And then he leans closer to me, one hand braced underneath my leg so I don’t fall, the other gripping the porcelain sink behind me. He pulls my pan es to the side. I didn’t no ce him unzipping his pants—not un l his erec on slowly (so, so slowly) eases into me.

I gasp, my eyes almost rolling back in my head. I clutch onto his biceps while he begins to thrust deep inside of me. I am so full of Loren Hale, in a public bathroom, where his needs match mine. And he’s feeding into them.

For us.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs, his breath shallow as he rocks into me. “Lil.”

I didn’t realize they were closed. I meet his gaze, and I nearly lose it at the way he’s looking at me. Lo kisses me deeply while I struggle to hold onto him without coming right there. His parted lips brush my forehead while he quickens his pace, while the intensity in his gaze matches the one in our bodies. My nerves light on re, and with one last thrust, we both come together.

I breathe heavily while I descend o this giant cli of bliss.

“I love you,” he whispers, his mouth near my ear.

My lips rise into a small smile. “I love you too.” Everything right then felt too good for words. And as he stays inside of me a li le too long, I wonder if it can happen again.

Don’t go there, Lily.

A strangled sound latches in my throat. Like a dying hyena. What the hell was that? I think it’s my body wan ng something it can’t have and being angry at my brain.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Lo says. “Lil.” He pulls out of me and li s up his boxer-briefs and jeans around his waist quickly. Then he holds me en rely, his hand cupping my face.

I shut my eyes. You don’t want anymore. You don’t want anymore. You’re done. I try to repeat the mantra, but I already crave that climax again, one of equal intensity. The horrible thing: I know it won’t match it. I know that the second me won’t beat the rst, so I’ll keep wan ng to try again and again to reach what I just had.

And it won’t come. Not un l I wait longer. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day.

“Look at me,” Lo says forcefully, his voice no longer as sweet-natured.

Just as I comply, someone knocks on the door.

“Someone’s in here!” Lo yells. And then he whispers to me, “I want this to work because if it doesn’t…” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to have another Wednesday like that.”

I remember back to the beginning of the week, where Lo proposed, where I declared how much I wanted to follow the blacklist—the perimeters my therapist created: no public sex, s ck to morning and nights, no nooners in sight. I’d never seen the list.

Un l Wednesday.

We had possibly one of the worst ghts in the history of our ghts. It was about our fears. Like a revolving door, we were slammed with the same exact issues we’ve been dealing with for months.

I worry his needs aren’t being sa ated.

He worries that I’ll turn to another guy to obtain what he denies me.

I remember his words so clearly. “This isn’t working, Lily,” he said, his eyes bloodshot. We wanted all of each other, but we were purposefully distancing ourselves so I wouldn’t become a crazy, compulsive beast.

The silent, excrucia ng statement clung to the air: We should break up.

We were both crying at that point, and I felt like it was the end, like someone gu ed me. We were both on the carpet, and his arms were wrapped around me. Yet, neither of us could come up with a be er solu on.

Two hours later, sunken with this immeasurable grief that can’t be justly explained, he whispered, “Be with me.”

My heart clenched. “What?” My eyes burned all over again.

He held my cheeks with his two hands, his face full of pain and love, a twisted mix that reminded me of how wrong we are for each other but how right it felt. “No more rules. Fuck the list. You’re strong enough to handle sex when I’m aroused and maybe even in public too.” He wiped my silent tears that fell.

“How do you know that I’m strong enough?”

“Because you’re be er now,” he said, almost convincing me. “And you have me—sober me. I’ll make sure you don’t spiral out of control.” His voice lowered, and his forehead touched mine. “I don’t want to live if you’re not living with me.”

I didn’t either.

And since Wednesday, our new system has actually worked, despite me struggling a few mes—which I think is to be expected. But Lo hasn’t fed into my compulsions. Not once.

“I’m okay now,” I say, more assuredly. I can do this. Sex starts to dri in the back of my mind. I hear the phrase: I don’t want to live if you’re not living with me.

I can’t lose Lo. I just can’t.

He scans my features and then kisses my forehead before helping me step into my shorts. Another knock beats against the door. This me, it’s way angrier. “Someone’s in here!” Lo yells back.

The person calls through the wood, the rough voice too familiar, “Your food is ge ng cold.” I thought Ryke would say something like: You be er not be screwing in there. But I remember that there are hoards of people outside, and he doesn’t want to air our dirty laundry.

“I’m s ll talking to my girlfriend,” Lo shoots back. “Start ea ng without us, bro.”

I imagine Ryke rolling his eyes. “Is that all you’re doing in there?”

“Yes,” Lo growls. “Fucking Christ, leave us alone for a goddamn minute.”

“I’ve le you alone for twenty minutes,” Ryke retorts, jiggling the knob. “Are you going to let me in?”

“No,” Lo snaps, now facing the door like he’s ba ling with it and not Ryke on the other side. “I’ll be out in a second.”

I nish dressing, and then I comb my hands through my post-sex hair.

“You have thirty seconds,” Ryke says. “And I’m actually fucking ming you.”

Lo clenches his teeth so hard, restraining from spou ng o a string of insults. His hands ball into sts by his side, and it looks painful for him to just slowly turn around and face me, trying to be a be er person and leave a ght behind.

My cheeks start to heat with anxiety. “You think they’ll ever nd out?” I whisper.

With tension s ll constric ng his muscles, he draws me to his body and wraps his arm around my bony shoulder. “We’re good at keeping secrets,” he murmurs. “How is this one any di erent?”

Right. I exhale deeply, wiping some of the wetness by my eyes. Curse Wednesday. That moment s ll feels fresh, even remembering brings waterworks.

“It helps that you look upset,” Lo tells me under his breath. “He’ll believe we were just talking.”

Good.

No one knows we’re having more sex.

Not my sisters.

Not his brother.

Not Connor or even our therapist.

We don’t think they’ll understand, and we’re both exhausted from all the voices in our lives. For once, we just want to do this together. Alone.

Lily and Lo.

Like it was before.

Only be er this me.

We’re stronger now.

Lo unlocks the door, but Ryke is the one to open it. The cha er from the crowded diner almost blasts me backwards, but Lo keeps me close. I realize that they’re both glaring at each other—that is un l Ryke scru nizes me, trying to spot the stain of debauchery on my clothes.

My jeans are zipped and my shirt is straight and wrinkle-free, thank you very much.

“We were just talking,” Lo snaps.

Either Ryke trusts Lo enough to believe him or Ryke has very bad sleuthing skills. He could never be a private inves gator. Maybe ditching journalism was a good idea.

His concern shi s o his younger brother and pins to me. “You okay?” He even takes a step closer, and at the nearness, the girls in the room shriek uncontrollably and start clapping.

Someone yells, “Love triangle!”

Oh my God. No, no, no. I push Ryke back with two rm palms, and he raises his hands in defense.

Ryke sighs heavily, almost growling, and agita on hardens his jaw. “So now I can’t even be concerned about you?”

“I’m not chea ng on Lo with you.” I hope everyone in Lucky’s heard that. I almost want to stand on a chair and scream it. That’s something my li le sister, Daisy, would de nitely do. But while the idea sounds awesome, I can’t bring myself to execute the task.

What if someone throws a hamburger pa y at me? Oh my God—what if they chucked a hot dog at my face? That would be my luck.

“Lily!” Lo shouts. He shakes my shoulder. “Calm down.”

“I…I am calm.” Am I not calm?

“You’re pan ng like you’re being chased.”

I glance between the two guys who’ve blocked my view of the diner with their bodies, literally crea ng a manly wall right in front of me. I’d nd it sexy if I didn’t know what was behind them.

And then someone else shouts, “Three-way!”

Oh my God. No. I start, “I am not having sex with—”

“Let it go,” Lo tells me with a dark gaze, matching his brother’s. “You can scream and shout but those tabloids are going to run a fake story tomorrow and the next day. I want to fucking eat.” He turns to Ryke. “Do you?”

Ryke nods. “Yeah I’m fucking starved.”

Lo looks to me again. “I’m not le ng anyone run us out.”

They’ve teamed up against me.

I think I like when they’re united more than when they’re against each other. It gives me the con dence I need to trek over to the booth, sit down, and order the food I want.

A hot dog.

Thrive

CHAPTER THREE

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 01 MONTH

SEPTEMBER

LYING TO EVERYONE WE LOVE, it’s not as di cult as it seems. Maybe because we’ve spent more me lying than we have telling the truth. Or because I love her more than anyone else in my life.

I’m red of having third-party opinions about Lily’s sex life. She’s fucking me. The only opinions that should ma er are mine and hers.

And so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fuck everyone who thinks I’m the same self-indulgent kid who begged her to date me without le ng go of my booze.

That guy is dead.

I try to ignore the comics that li er my desk in unorganized piles. Connor Cobalt would shit his pants if he sauntered into my o ce right now. Last week, he spent an en re hour helping me le my work, but it arrives faster than I can manage.

Halway Comics, a small indie publishing company, exploded on the internet with the headline: Loren Hale Starts a New Business Venture. Now I’m ooded with proposals from aspiring ar sts—and no ma er how hard I try, I can never keep up.

Maybe if I gave one-hundred percent of myself to the business it’d be easier. But I’m giving maybe forty percent. I happily give the rest to Lily.

“What kind of buckle is this?” Lily fumbles with my belt, her knees on the carpet in front of my desk. The leather chair squeaks as I roll back and push her hands away.

“You’re out of prac ce,” I tease.

She gasps. “Am not.” She points to my belt buckle that I slowly undo. “You’re either wearing a chas ty belt or you put a spell on it so it won’t open from outside forces…Alohomora.”

I freeze and give her a look. Did she…she did. She just tried to unlock it with a fucking spell. Her cheeks redden.

“I was there when you didn’t receive your Hogwarts le er,” I remind her. She cried on her eleventh birthday, and to make her feel be er I got her drunk o my dad’s expensive scotch.

I was a fucking idiot.

“Oh whatever, I know you try out spells when no one’s around.”

I don’t deny it.

I unhook my belt and she points. “Look, it worked,” she says with a smile.

“Ha ha,” I say dryly, but I’m staring at her grin. That happens so rarely now with the press bearing down on us.

She concentrates solely on my pants, making them her mission. She tugs the jeans to my thighs, and her eyes grow big at the sight of my erec on, pressing against my dark red boxer-briefs. I watch her inhale more sporadically than before.

Even if this arouses her, she’s learning how to be less compulsive and insa able. She hasn’t looked at porn, masturbated or gone o the deep end in a while. That’s a fucking success, especially a er her rapid decline when her addic on was rst publicized.

I relax back against my leather chair, and she licks her lips. My blood heats when she reaches for my cock underneath the fabric. I brush her hair away from her face, bunching her brune e strands in my st.

Her hand works my cock just right—not too hard, not too so . I let out a harsh breath when it springs from my boxer-briefs and her tongue barely touches the head. I reach out on my desk with my free hand and turn up the music on my iPod dock, electronic, heavy bass. I think it’s Skrillex, but my mind isn’t focused enough to know for sure.

Her eyes glimmer with nothing but desire, and it takes my en re energy not to t all of me inside her mouth. She lightly squeezes my sha , and a groan penetrates my throat, even as I try to s e the noise. Her lips

rise, and she plants a delicate kiss on my dick before slowly taking it in her mouth. Jesus Christ. I grip the chair with one hand, my other s ll holding back her hair.

She begins skillfully sucking me o . “Right there, Lil,” I encourage.

My nerves light up, and I clutch her hair harder. Before I can drown in this pleasure, my door swings open. No knock. No anything. I keep my hand on her head, alarm clenching my jaw, and she quickly stops giving me a grade-A blow job.

Her mouth is permanently open in panic, and she scu les further underneath my desk.

I have just enough me to roll my chair closer to the desk, pull up my boxer-briefs, and prepare a verbal onslaught for whatever stupid fuck just barged in here.

“You need a goddamn assistant,” my father tells me, walking straight into my o ce without pause.

I suddenly ques on the a ack I’d planned. Jonathan Hale would swallow my insults like he does his bourbon. Un inchingly. Always ready for more.

“I’m sorry, did we have an appointment?” I ask roughly, not able to hold back right now, even if I wanted to.

Lily punches my shin, silently telling me to be nice. But it’s my father’s scowl, the one hardened and cold, that does more damage.

“Don’t be a li le shit,” he sneers. “How are you supposed to take mee ngs if you don’t have a wai ng room with an actual living, breathing soul outside these doors?” He scans my o ce, appraising my bookshelves with scorn. As if they’re not organized correctly.

“Maybe I’m not planning on taking any mee ngs,” I retort. “Therefore, I don’t need a wai ng room.”

“Some mes I wonder if one of my fucking nannies dropped you on your head when you were a kid,” he says.

My childhood “nannies” that he claims he’s banged. All ten of them. “No,” I say, “I’m just this way because of you, Dad.” I ash a bi er smile that my father matches quickly.

“I came here to discuss your business.” He drags a chair from the wall over to my desk, posi oning it in front of me.

I go rigid, and my eyes icker to Lily who’s hiding right below. Her eyes bug, and she holds her legs to her chest. She mouths, he’s right there?

I don’t a rm her suspicions because it’ll freak her out more. Instead I watch my dad pick up a plas c X-Men ac on gure that sits beside an array of other characters. I could laugh at this moment, especially as he moves Sunspot’s arm, but his curiosity is layered with a dark frown and narrowed eyes. I sense the bi ng disapproval even before he speaks.

“You’re a li le old for this shit, don’t you think?” Surprisingly, he sets Sunspot back where he found him.

“I run a comic book business,” I remind him. “I like this shit.”

“That doesn’t mean your o ce should look like an eleven-year-old’s bedroom.” He shakes his head at the rest of the superhero paraphernalia. “Your new assistant can redecorate for you.”

“I don’t have the energy to deal with an assistant,” I refute. I can’t handle interlopers. I’d shred them apart. According to Brian, my therapist, I drive people away before they have the chance to hurt me.

If I think about how many lies I’ve been fed in my life and the abandonment of two moms, I start believing he’s right. I have trust issues. But I accepted Connor, a complete stranger. I welcomed a half-brother who had lied outright to me.

Isn’t that enough?

Why do I need to add more people into my fucking circle?

“Is that it?” I ask my dad. “Because you’re irrita ng me, if you haven’t no ced.”

Lily shi s uneasily and tugs my pants. She wants me to calm down. I’m not going to go drink a er this. I may throw something at my dad on the way out, like a pen. Or at least imagine it. But I won’t drink.

“The assistant is at the bo om of the list,” he says, his breath smelling of bourbon. “What about this store downstairs?”

Shit. “Superheroes & Scones,” I clarify. “Lily’s running it.”

“And I’m nancing it,” he reminds me. “When is it opening?” His gaze dri s to the pile of papers on my desk. He grabs the nearest manuscript, toppling over a mug that’s branded with the Halway Comics logo. I lean forward and put it back.

My father’s face literally hardens to fucking stone the longer he ips through the comic book.

My head spins, trying to think ve steps ahead of where he’s at. But this is a chess game that I’ll always lose. “Lily wants to take things slow, so we’ll probably open it a er she graduates.” Which could be in a few more years.

And I like that she can hang out downstairs without crowds. I’m afraid that once we open the store, it’ll be too crazy for her. Like how it’s been at Lucky’s. Only worse.

Because it’s ours.

My dad sco s and tosses the comic back on the table. “That’s a terrible fucking business plan. You’re in the press now. You need to capitalize on the exposure as quickly as you can.”

“She’s a sex addict. It’s not going to be good exposure,” I say, frustrated. I glance down at Lily, who no longer tugs on my jeans. She stares faraway at the carpet, her neck red like anxiety is creeping in.

I’m about to tell my dad to get out, but his brutal glare silences me. “Loren.” He says my name like I’m a complete fucking moron. “When you’re making something out of nothing, bad press is good press. But when you’ve already established a reputa on, bad press can kill you.” He points at me. “You have nothing right now. Bad press is what you need. Use it. Don’t be stupid.”

I just don’t want Lily to feel like she lost out on something else because of the media. We didn’t expect the a en on to last for this long and to just keep on escala ng. At this point, I don’t think it’ll ever die down. There’s just too much interest in my rela onship with her and my half-brother.

It’s like a tabloid’s wet dream.

“I need more me,” I tell him, trying to nd a fucking excuse. “It’s not ready yet. We s ll have inventory that needs to arrive—”

“I was just down there. If it’s not already stocked, then you’re overstocked.” He stands up. “It opens by the end of this month, and if you don’t set a date then I’ll put an ad in the paper myself, and you’ll just have to fucking deal with the line outside this building.”

I grip the edge of the table, my teeth aching as I shut my mouth. You’re okay. It’s a dumb pep talk considering all I want to do is explode…and yeah, a bo le of Jameson sounds great.

He stops by the door to adjust his e. “Also, word of advice. If you want to have blow jobs in your o ce, you really do need an assistant.”

What the fuck?

My face falls.

My dad looks at the desk like he can see right through it. He can’t. “Lily, try not to breathe so heavily next me. You give yourself away.” With that, he saunters out of my o ce and out of fucking sight.

Just like my dad to have an exit as drama c as his entrance.

“Oh my God,” Lily says with wide eyes, not crawling out yet. I look down at her splotchy red face. She’s way more embarrassed than me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “We’ve both seen him come home a er a one-night stand before.” If a woman wasn’t leaving with smudged makeup in the morning, then he was coming inside the house at 10 a.m.— fully clothed in his suit from the previous night.

No shame.

Ever.

My father doesn’t work that late unless he’s ge ng laid.

She doesn’t say anything.

I roll my chair back and dip my head down to meet her gaze. “Come out.”

She’s immobile. I think I may have to pull her out. Which, oddly, wouldn’t be the rst me I’ve had to retrieve my girlfriend from under a desk.

I go to raise my jeans up to my waist, and this s rs her from her hiding place. “No, I’ll nish you,” she tells me, crawling towards my lap.

My stomach suddenly sinks. I know I have to reject her. She’s too anxious—and sex shouldn’t be used to demolish those hard-hi ng feelings. She has to deal. When she places her palms on my knees, I say, “No, not this me, Lil.” I scoop her hands and tuck them back to her chest. Then I pull up my jeans, zipped and bu oned to solidify my choice.

S ll on her knees, her shoulders sag. She looks lost. I li her onto my lap, and she places a leg on either side of the chair, straddling me. Christ. I don’t want to keep rejec ng her, but I also sel shly don’t want to move my girlfriend.

Instead of bringing up sex, she surprisingly veers into another direc on. “About Superheroes & Scones…” she trails o , not able to nd the words. She places her hand on my chest, no happier than she was on the ground.

The store has been a safe place for Lily away from the house, and we both know if it opens, that safe place ends.

“We can wait,” I o er. Her despondent gaze is really fucking scaring me. “I can convince—”

“No,” she interrupts, but my muscles keep ghtening. “He’s right. We should open it soon.” I know she doesn’t believe that. “I’ll hire a general manager and just keep in contact through phone and texts, so I know what’s going on…”

“Lily,” I say her name but I can’t say anything else. My lungs constrict, and when I look at her, all I see is a girl trapped in her own world.

Hell, she’s trapped in her own fucking body. She just needs me, but no one seems to be giving it to her.

She actually turns her head to look at the space underneath the desk, like she’s contempla ng returning. Don’t you fucking dare crawl back there, Lil.

Slowly, she climbs o my lap. “I’m going to go count the inventory,” she says in this really so voice, all her humor gone. My biggest fear barrels into me. Losing her.

“No you’re not,” I snap. “You’re going to stay here and help me with this pile of shit.” I wave at my desk, mo oning to the comics. She considers this like it’s a sugges on. It’s not. I don’t trust her to be alone right now.

“Please, Lil,” I add. “I’m ge ng bogged down here. I need your help. You can do the inventory another day.” That does the trick.

She walks back to the desk and picks up a thick manuscript.

It’s terrifying how the both of us can ride highs and lows so quickly. She slumps down on the chair and opens a comic, her lips slightly downturned. But I’d take a Lily at a low over no Lily at all.

That’s the truth.

Thrive

CHAPTER FOUR

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 01 MONTH

SEPTEMBER

WE OPENED SUPERHEROES & Scones last week.

Three hours before we unlocked the doors, we had to rope o the sidewalk to contain the lines and lines of people outside. The crowds haven’t died down since. The shi est thing: We barely sell any comics. People buy a cup of co ee and sit their asses in a booth, wai ng to spot Lily or me.

We’re the products on display.

Lily spent the last two weeks holed up at the Princeton house, hiding from the reenergized media. I invited her to lunch, and she threw out some excuse about studying. But I know she’s binge-watching a TV show.

Right now, I ignore Ryke and Connor, the la er of which accepts our drinks from a waitress. She wears a mul colored Sombrero. Apparently it was some kid’s twel h birthday, so they sang in Spanish to him and shook maracas. The boy looked pre y happy.

I focus on my cellphone and text Lil.

I’m checking Ne lix when I get home. I press send, not clarifying. She’ll understand where I’m going with this.

She replies quickly. Do it. I’m studying :P – Lily

Did you just s ck your tongue out at me?

:P – Lily

While adorable, the emo con is her way of being evasive. I wish she was here. It’s easier to know where her head’s at when I can actually see her.

“Are you joining us for lunch, Lo?” Connor asks me as the waitress leaves us with more chips and a bowl of guacamole.

I pocket my phone and a empt to clear the frustra on from my features. It’s like a permanent appendage, this pissed o I fucking hate you look. I can’t get rid of it.

I don’t know how.

My gaze dri s to that young kid in the center of the Mexican restaurant, at a table for ten, probably all family surrounding him.

While he opens a present, his mom collects the ssue paper and folds it neatly.

His dad snaps photos.

I hate everything about that kid. I hate that he’s smiling. I hate that more than one person hugs him. And I hate that I hate him. Why does other people’s happiness have to feel like someone punching me in the gut?

“Lo,” Ryke snaps.

I face my half-brother and Connor. They can barely withstand each other some mes, so I’m surprised they’ve chosen seats side-by-side. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I say sharply.

I lean back against my wooden chair, trying to loosen my taut muscles. We sit in the back, away from lingering eyes and the glass windows.

No cameras. No paparazzi.

It’s more freeing than I can explain.

“Physically, you’re here,” Connor replies. “But I prefer one-hundred percent a en on from people.”

Ryke lets out an unamused laugh. “You never change, do you? S ll a narcissist.”

I eat a chip and say, “I was going to call him an a en on whore.”

“I’m that too,” Connor agrees with a burgeoning grin. “So I love myself. Not many people can say the same thing—which is a shame.”

I wait for him to look at me.

But he stares o at the salsa bar, sipping his water.

I pop another chip in my mouth and try to relax. I don’t ques on Connor’s black bu on-down or his expensive watch or his wavy brown, perfectly styled, hair. The guy is put together, unlike my brother who seems to have rolled out of bed, disheveled dark brown hair, unshaven jaw and a University of Pennsylvania track T-shirt.

I think I t somewhere in between.

At least I hope so.

“How’s Lily?” Connor asks me.

“How’s Rose?” I de ect and reach for my drink. A water.

“Busy. High-strung. You know she took over the wedding planning from Samantha?”

“Yeah.” I know. “Lily and her mom aren’t on speaking terms yet.” I don’t know if they’ll ever patch things up. It’s so complicated that I’m not sure if opening lines of communica on is the right move. Lily was destroyed a er her mom told her that she was a disappointment.

Samantha’s whole life is about protec ng her family’s reputa on, and her own daughter fucked with it.

Lily thinks our marriage will repair the sha ered bond that she has with her mom—but I’m not holding my breath. I don’t want to watch Lily’s face crumble when she realizes that her mom s ll harbors deep-seated resentment.

So I’m coun ng down to our June wedding with nothing but dread.

Connor opens his mouth, and I cut him o . “Have you removed the wicked witch’s chas ty belt yet?” I ask, redirec ng the conversa on to his rela onship. “Or is it s ll welded together?”

“Rose is s ll a virgin,” he says like it doesn’t bother him at all. He’s almost been with her for an en re year and they’ve barely done anything, at least from what Lily and Connor have shared with me. Rose—she wouldn’t tell me the barest detail of her rela onship, even though she’d like mine adver sed. Just to ensure I’m not screwing up her sister’s recovery.

I’m not.

I grab a chip from the basket, wai ng for the hot sauce to eat my chicken tacos. “Watch out for her nails. I wouldn’t want her to mess up your pre y face.”

“I’m not afraid of Rose, but thanks for the concern, darling.” He winks.

I touch my heart. “Any me, love.”

Ryke rolls his eyes and slouches further in his chair, brooding. “How about save it when I’m not around?” he says.

“Homophobic?” I wonder, dunking a chip in salsa. I didn’t really peg my half-brother to be like that.

“No,” Ryke snaps like that’s the furthest from the truth. “Just irritated.”

I think he’s just jealous of the rela onship I have with Connor. It’s simple. We’re friends. But with Ryke—it just…it can’t be like that. There’s too much shit between us for it to be anything other than complicated.

Ryke takes out his phone and texts someone before se ng his cell on the table near mine. When the waitress returns, we place our orders, and then three girls giggle loudly at the bar. They no ce us in the back and smack each other’s arms. I read their lips: that’s them.

All wear themed sorority shirts like Go Greek! and Tri and Beat Us with running shorts. In their twen es—the kind of girls that go to the college I was expelled from.

University of Pennsylvania.

Ryke openly checks the girls out, and they nearly shriek, their eyes bulging.

“You’d think that you just gave them a ride in your Masera ,” I say to my brother.

“I don’t own a Masera .” It was a gure of speech. He stands up and tosses his napkin on the chair. “Give me ve minutes.”

Connor pockets his phone. “That long?”

“Fuck o ,” Ryke says easily before leaving to approach the girls.

I think the redhead on the end is going to faint.

They prac cally bounce on their bar stools, and Ryke slides in, using whatever game he has to pick them up. The short blonde with dark red lips ck speaks to Ryke, but she points right at Connor.

“Looks like one of them is into you,” I tell Connor.

He waves to them in the most noncommi al way I’ve ever seen. Friendly, not like a brush o , but half-removed like he’s silently disinterested.

“Cobalt,” Ryke shouts. “They want to know your IQ.”

“Higher than yours.”

Ryke rolls his eyes and turns his back on us, s ll talking to them.

“What a pickup line,” I say. “Damn, I missed the chance to use it on you.” When I rst met him, I was sure he was asexual. Lily suspected that he was gay. Now, I honestly don’t even know what he is.

To me—he’s just Connor.

Maybe that’s the point.

“I wouldn’t have turned you down.” Connor leans back in his chair, checking his gold and black plated watch.

“Why is that?”

“You’re good looking,” he banters. “Not as good looking as me, but no one really is. So I wouldn’t count that against you.”

Before I was sober, I’d sit at a bar with Connor and people would fawn over him. Six-foot-four with those obnoxiously con dent blue eyes.

Connor Cobalt is catnip for pussy and cock.

He knows it and he almost just doesn’t care.

Turns out Connor does have a type, and she happens to be stru ng through the restaurant right now. I let out an audible groan when I hear her ve-inch heels and see her piercing yellow-green eyes. But Rose has zoned in on one person.

She raises her Chanel sunglasses to the top of her head, and then occupies Ryke’s seat next to Connor. He greets her with a few words in French, and she replies back in the same language. His arm slides around the back of her chair, his body leaned towards her in possession.

If the girls at the bar didn’t realize he was legi mately taken, they do now.

“Hey, Rose,” I say unenthusias cally. “I thought you couldn’t make it to lunch.”

“I have ten minutes,” she says, agging down the waitress. “I thought I’d stop by just to piss you o . It’s number three on my list of daily ac vi es.”

“Thought so,” I say. “Is ling your talons number four?”

She shoots me a glare.

I shoot one back.

“Children,” Connor says, “can you ght while Rose isn’t near knives and Loren isn’t near tables that he can ip? I nd cafeteria brawls wildly amusing, but not when I’m in the cross re.”

“You’ve been saved,” Rose tells me like a villain in a bad ac on ick. She’s half-serious which is the stupid thing.

“Thank you, Darth Vader.”

She ips me o , just as the waitress approaches and clears her throat. Rose is caught with her middle nger in the air.

I laugh—this is rich.

Rose looks hardly embarrassed. She lowers her nger and says, “I’d like a margarita, frozen, no salt.”

“Can I see your ID?”

Rose pops open her clutch wallet and ashes her ID to the waitress.

“Thanks. I’ll get that right out to you. Anything else?” She xes her Sombrero.

“Yeah,” I say, “a blow torch to defrost my girlfriend’s sister.” I smile dryly. “Thanks.”

“And I’d like a y swa er so I can smack my sister’s boyfriend.”

The waitress opens her mouth, par ally, but no words escape.

“A margarita is all,” Connor tells her with a warm smile.

She swallows. “I’ll have that ready in a sec…”

When she leaves, my phone buzzes on the table. I collect it and open the text.

See you tomorrow. – Daisy

I go en rely rigid.

I ip the cell over and no ce the dark green casing, unlike my black one. I accidentally picked up Ryke’s phone.

Morality, ethics—I was taught to shit on them.

I don’t even hesitate. I just scroll through the messages quickly, reaching the top of the conversa on. My ngers rise to my lips in anxiety, my rapid thoughts drowning out Connor and Rose’s French talk.

You le your shirt with me, you know. – Daisy

Keep it. – Ryke

What the fuck? I breathe heavily, dark emo ons pooling into me from so many places. Some indis nguishable, others really clear. Daisy is only sixteen.

It’s all I can think right now.

Back in Cancun, I made a promise—to trust Ryke, to lay o him about their growing friendship. I’ve been seriously trying.

My eyes icker to my brother at the bar. He works the brune e girl, her

gure curvy and her hand on his arm as she laughs at something he said.

She’s working him just as hard too.

And I imagine Ryke messing with Daisy’s head—just like that. Like she’s another girl at a bar. Like he’s trying to fuck her one night or for a week, maybe a month.

Nothing more.

I imagine the teasing.

The ir ng.

I don’t know what he’s playing at with Lily’s li le sister, but it’s not right. He can sleep with any girl—why does he have to go a er her?

Or is he just leading her on, with no real plan to do anything more?

Does he get o on that?

I’ll ask him, I think. It’s the only thing that stops my leg from jostling.

I return to the texts.

I can just give the shirt back to you when we go riding. – Daisy

Whatever you want. Just make sure to wear fucking boots this me

and not ip- ops. – Ryke

They were sandals. I also just found your shorts. I’ll wear those the

next me I see you too ;) – Daisy

Really?

Just wear the fucking boots, Calloway. – Ryke

You want me to ride naked? I usually don’t do that un l a er second

base. – Daisy

I’d rather you wore my shorts. – Ryke

Does it turn you on when girls wear your clothes? – Daisy

I’ll see you tomorrow, Dais. – Ryke

See you tomorrow. – Daisy

That was the newest text.

“Are you okay, Lo?” Connor asks, o my vola le expression. Heat prac cally radiates from my muscles.

Rose twirls her straw in her margarita. I didn’t even see the waitress come by again.

“I’m great,” I say coldly.

Only a second or so later, Ryke returns to the table with a napkin. He sits right next to me in the free seat. “Got her number and her address.” He pockets the napkin with the scribbled info. Then he reaches over and grabs his water that’s near Rose.

“Does that girl know you just want to fuck her?” I ask, my voice coarse.

Tension spreads through the table, but remorse lies far o —in another realm of existence. In some good guy’s body.

“Yeah,” Ryke says, drawing out the word as he studies my expression. “I think she got the message when I said that I wasn’t into anything serious.” He pauses. “Did I do something…?”

I slide the phone across the mosaic- led table and set it right in front of him.

Since his chair is beside mine, he has to angle his body towards me. “You read my fucking texts?” He glowers.

“Why is she ir ng with you?”

Ryke runs his hand anxiously through his thick brown hair. “It’s innocent, Lo.”

That’s not what I wanted to hear. “Does she know that?”

“Yes,” he forces.

“How? How does she fucking know that, Ryke? She’s sixteen, and you’re leading her on.”

Rose stops sipping her margarita. “Are we talking about my li le sister, here?”

“We should stay out of this, Rose,” Connor tells her.

Rose snaps back at him in French, and they start arguing in the foreign language.

Ryke groans in distress and annoyance. “I’m not trying to lead her on.”

I snatch the phone back from him.

“Come on, Lo,” he complains.

I hold up a nger and scroll through the texts. Then I read: “I’d rather you just wore my shorts. What is that?”

“A joke.”

I glare, two seconds from chucking his phone at his face.

“A dirty joke,” he rephrases. “Okay, I know. It looks bad.” He lets out a deep breath, almost growling. “You have to cut me some fucking slack. None of this is inten onal. It’s just how I am.”

I hate that excuse. He always uses it. He blames his personality for everything—like it’s a scapegoat. “I’ve never seen you talk to another girl like this.”

“That’s because other girls don’t talk to me like this. She’s fucking crazy and bold…” His mouth stays open like he’s about to say something else, but then his lips press closed. Rethinking that last statement.

“Finish it,” I snap. He’s going to say she’s hot. She’s sexy. Whatever. It’s wri en on his face.

He holds up his hands. “I’m done. I don’t know what else to fucking tell you.”

He absolutely sucks at relieving any sort of suspicion or anxiety that I have. “I’m trying to trust you,” I retort.

“Yeah? You’re not doing a good fucking job of it.”

My insides twist. You’re not doing a good fucking job of it—the words blare in the back of my head. It hurts that he’d even think that.

I lean closer to him, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You came into my life in a lie,” I say. “You weren’t honest about who you were, and when you came clean, I s ll let you take me to rehab. I s ll hang out with you, knowing that you could be lying about so much more. That is more blind trust than I’ve ever given anyone in my life. So don’t tell me that I’m not doing a good job.” My eyes burn. I’m giving everything I possibly can.

And it’s s ll never enough.

“You’re right,” he nods a few mes and rubs his jaw. “I’m sorry. You have a right to be cau ous of me. I just…” He shrugs, not able to nd the words. He turns away and takes a swig of water.

Some mes I just want to shake Ryke so hard un l he tells me things straight. No half-lies. No ptoeing around me.

I just want the cold truth. All of it. Finding out later—that s ngs ten

mes worse.

Why does he have such an easy me speaking freely to other people but when it comes to us he hesitates? It’s like our past is so dense that he refuses to crawl through it at mes.

I’m stuck in it.

Like quicksand.

“Can you be honest with me?” I ask, remembering how no one told me that I was a bastard. Ryke had these answers for so long. And even when he nally met me, he kept them to himself for months. To protect me from myself, he basically said.

No one even gives me a chance.

They just assume I’m going to fuck up before I actually do.

I don’t want to be blindsided anymore. Not by the people close to me.

Ryke stares at me for a long moment before saying, “I’d never sleep with Daisy.” He’s said as much before.

Rose suddenly rises from the table, her purse on her arm. “I have to go back to work, but next me you talk about my li le sister in the context of fucking, be smart enough and don’t do it in front of me.” She drills a glare into Ryke. “She’s reckless and impulsive, and despite those aws, she’s s ll my sister. I love her more than I will ever love any of you at this table.” She pauses. “And you should know that I own a gun. I’m also a be er shot than Connor.” With this, she spins on her heels and walks con dently to the exit.

Connor never takes his eyes o Rose.

I’m so glad I’m not da ng her.

I focus back on Ryke. “Why does Daisy have your shirt and shorts?”

“We rode to a quarry and went swimming,” he explains. “My friend Sully was there. We ended up at her house…” he trails o , pu ng doubt in my head again.

“You mean her parent’s house?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Just to dry our clothes. It was closer than my apartment.”

“This sounds so sketchy—”

“I know, but it’s the fucking truth. I had to leave early, so I ended up just wearing an extra pair of shorts in Sully’s Jeep. I le my clothes in her dryer.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I promise it wasn’t anything like you’re thinking.” He sets an elbow on the table, angled back towards me. “I know you shouldn’t trust me, but I need you to—I want you to. Please.”

This is a moment that will de ne the rest of my rela onship with him. I can sense it. “I’m going to ask you this one me, and I want you to be completely one-hundred percent honest with me.”

Ryke nods. “Okay.”

“Are you a racted to Daisy?”

He stares directly into my narrowed eyes. And he says, “No.”

I try to breathe a sigh of relief, but this nagging devil on my shoulder says: Don’t believe him. Don’t trust him. Don’t love him.

All he’ll do is hurt you.

“Not one me? She’s a model—”

“She’s gorgeous,” Ryke admits, “but she’s sixteen, Lo. How many mes do I have to say the same thing for you to fucking believe me?” I don’t know.

“And when she’s eighteen?” I ask. I’ve never seen Ryke with a girl longer than a few weeks. I can’t stomach the thought of my brother screwing over Daisy.

“No. Nothing’ll change,” he tells me. “I promise you that we’ll always be just friends.”

I nod a few mes, le ng this sink in, accep ng it as the truth. “Okay.” I pass him his phone. “I believe you.”

Don’t believe him.

I’m going to.

Because he’s my brother, and he won’t hurt me like that.

And if he betrays me—then it’s my fault for le ng him in.

Thrive

CHAPTER FIVE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 02 MONTHS

OCTOBER

I LIE ON MY STOMACH, my canopy net draped around my bed. Too Cute! Puppies on Animal Planet plays, and I try not to ip open the stack of tabloids beside me. Rose told me to burn the picture of me ea ng a hot dog, but it’s s ll inside one of those magazines.

Burning one won’t rid them all. Anyway, I think Rose just likes re.

The door suddenly swings open, and I fran cally swipe the tabloids o the ma ress. They tangle in the net and hang midair. Uhh…

Lo hesitates in the door frame, his face sharpening as he looks from me to the magazines to the television puppies and back to me. “Okay, this has got to end.” He slams the door and dials a number in his phone.

“What?” I kneel. “It’s not porn!”

He walks further into the room and then slips his phone back in his pocket.

“Who’d you text? I thought we decided that we didn’t need anyone else to deal with our problems.”

“This isn’t about sex,” Lo says, climbing onto the bed and taking a seat beside me. He combs my hair out of my face. “This is about you, frightened to go outside, scared of the fucking paparazzi. You can’t live like this. Christ, I can’t live like this.”

“It’s ge ng worse,” I tell Lo honestly. “I feel like every me I go outside with you, there’s another ar cle about how I’m a lying, chea ng slut who’s with Ryke.” I shrug. “I gure it’s easier for everyone else if I just stay here.” My eyes icker to the television. “And plus, the puppies…”

“You can watch your puppies in a park.” Lo searches for the remote underneath decora ve pillows.

“Hey,” I say, tackling him to stop. “Baby sloths are coming on next.”

“Then we can go to the zoo. Anything but staying cooped up here, Lil.” He grabs my arms and pushes me back.

I climb on him, channeling my inner-monkey (it helps that Chimps was on prior to Too Cute!) “You can’t…” I wrap my thighs around his waist, his back against the ma ress now. And I try to press his arms above his head.

He rolls on top of me, basically pinning me much be er than I pinned him. “Look at me,” he says forcefully.

I do. I stare right into his amber eyes that seem to pull my very soul into his heart. It’s so deep, so intoxica ng, that I go u erly s ll and quiet.

“I won’t lose you to anything.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.

“Clearly,” he says. “You can handle this. I know you can. You know you can. You just have to start believing in yourself.”

I breathe in his words. “Okay.” I pause. “But just a er the sloths…”

Someone knocks on the door. “Is she in there?” I hear Poppy, my oldest sister.

Lo takes the me to reach above my head, grab the remote, and switch o the television.

“Don’t knock,” Rose says. “Just walk in.” And that’s when Rose barrels into our room as she normally does. She barely even acknowledges the fact that Lo is pinning me on the bed.

My cheeks start turning red. Even though we weren’t even close to making out…I think. Who knows where this would’ve ended up a er ten more minutes?

Poppy strolls in next but freezes a couple steps inside. “Oh sorry.” She shields her eyes with her hand. To Rose, she says, “I told you we should have knocked again.”

“Why? They’re not screwing. They can’t. It’s the middle of the day. Right, Loren?” Rose asks. Lo slowly crawls o my body and lies next to me, propping himself on his elbows.

“Sure,” he says with a sardonic smile. “You can drop your hand, Poppy. My dick isn’t anywhere near your sister.”

“Okay, but I s ll feel bad about barging into your room,” Poppy says so ly, lowering her hand. She gives me a warm smile. I haven’t seen her much since the media crisis with the scandal. I can only imagine it’s a ec ng her about as well as everyone else. Her brown hair is s ll long against her chest, her skin s ll sun-kissed and she s ll has that Monroe mole above her lip (not that she can really get rid of that).

At least these parts of her haven’t changed. I can’t imagine what else I’ve missed.

“Have you told her yet?” Rose asks Lo.

I perk up. “Told me what?” And since when do Lo and Rose conspire against me?

“We’ve been talking,” Lo admits.

“What?” I frown and scrunch my nose. “What have you done with Loren Hale?” Although they do sort through the mail some mornings together.

“It hasn’t been fun,” Rose adds.

“For either of us,” Lo chimes in.

Okaaay. “Someone be er spill soon.”

Rose stands in the center of the room, hands on her hips. Anyone can tell the di erence between my older sisters by their wardrobe alone. Rose wears a black pleated dress while Poppy’s in a bohemian maroon shirt and skinny jeans.

Poppy is probably easier to get along with, pre y laid-back, but I always gravitate towards my ercest sister. She’d be a lioness on Animal Planet, for sure.

Lo slides o the bed and shuts the cracked door.

I scoot closer to Poppy, who stands by the ma ress, and she actually starts braiding my hair.

“You need out of this house,” Rose says.

I can’t refute. I know I’ve been a hermit. Lucky’s Diner was really my last real ou ng. It just got so crazy a er that—and the magazines went wild with theories about Ryke and me and Lo.

As though I summoned the angel to Lo’s devil—Ryke Meadows opens the door and enters the room, dressed in only track pants and what looks like a sweaty shirt thrown over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, forcing my eyes to stay on his face and not his six-pack.

“I was invited to this mee ng.”

Mee ng?

“I sent a mass text,” Lo admits.

“Connor is in class,” Rose tells me. “He can’t come.” And Daisy is in prep school. Okay…so that means: This is it.

“Does no one knock around here?” Poppy asks.

Ryke shrugs. “They shouldn’t be fucking. It’s the a ernoon.”

Rose pulls back her shoulders. “That’s what I said.”

Poppy stares between Lo and me with a li le more concern and then she addresses Rose and Ryke. “You both realize that they have no privacy outside and inside their rela onship, right?”

“You tell ‘em, Poppy,” Lo says, leaning against our dresser with crossed arms. He’s smiling in amusement. Our other two siblings look like they could tear out his jugular.

“He’s an addict,” Rose says. “I don’t trust him with our sister.”

“And she’s an addict,” Ryke retorts. “I don’t trust her with my brother.”

Poppy raises her hands, coming in peace. I stay quiet. This is my role in my loud family. “It just seems, to me, that you both have trust issues…and maybe you need to have a li le more faith in them.”

“Just so everyone knows, I have a new favorite Calloway sister,” Lo proclaims. He almost looks like he could high- ve her.

I do like having someone completely on our side, champions for our rela onship. It feels good.

“No o ense,” Ryke tells her. “You weren’t there when they were fucking enabling each other.”

“No o ense,” Poppy retorts, “but I’ve been here their whole lives. I’ve seen Lily when she’s sad and I’ve seen Lo when he’s angry.”

Ryke just nods a few mes, his shoulders relaxing. “I’m sorry then,” he tells her. “I don’t know you that well.”

Poppy looks a li le taken aback by his sudden kindness. She says quickly, “Me too.”

I clap my hands. “So if that’s it—”

“Not even close,” Lo says.

“We’re going out,” Poppy explains, running her ngers through my hair as she gathers strands to braid.

“Like to a club?” My brows furrow. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.

Rose stares at me like I’ve seriously lost some brain cells inside this room. “No, not to a club. There’s a Comic-Con in Philly this weekend. We’re all going.”

My eyes light up. Yes! I almost bounce to my feet, but Poppy has my hair hostage.

Then my face falls as I seriously consider this. “Wait…I didn’t hear about a conven on.” Are they lying to me? “Is this a trick?”

Lo already has his phone out and he passes it to me. I s ll only have a shi y ip phone without internet, which thwarts any tempta ons to look at porn, but it also keeps me bored. I cup his phone in my hands like it’s a treasure. And then I quickly skim the adver sement for the small conven on.

“Wait. Wait.” My lips slowly rise in a big smile. “The director for the new X-Men movie is going to be there?”

Lo grins. “Yep.”

“Okay, we’re going.” I pause. “Wait. Wait.” My face falls.

“What is it?” Lo asks.

I hand him back his phone. “What about the crowds? If someone sees us, they’ll stop us to take pictures or ask us ques ons…” I trail o . Conven ons are already kind of crazy. But this craziness will surround us.

“That’s where Lo and I have been talking,” Rose says.

“We’re going to dress up,” Poppy cuts to the chase.

Rose glares at our oldest sister. “I was ge ng there.”

“She seemed antsy,” Poppy refutes, nishing tying my hair o . “Done.”

Rose lts her head at Poppy. “She looks ve.”

“She looks cute.”

“Jesus Christ, she looks ne,” Lo interjects. “Can we get back to the topic here?”

“Wait,” I smile.

“If you say wait one more fucking me…” Ryke threatens, so irritated. I think my voice alone annoys him.

Whatever.

He can’t burst this rare joy. “You’re all going to dress up in costumes? For me?”

Poppy shares my smile. “I think we’d all do a lot more just to see you happy, Lily.”

It’s that kind of honesty that almost brings tears to my eyes. Poppy has her arm around my shoulder, a maternal force that I suddenly recognize in this moment. Even when my mother wasn’t warm and kind to me, Poppy always was.

I wipe my cheek and bite my lip to keep the happy tears at bay. “I just have one ques on.”

They wait for me to ask. The room calm and quiet, unlike before. When I talk, they all try to listen. That means…

A lot.

A whole lot.

“Who is everyone dressing up as?”

Thrive

CHAPTER SIX

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 02 MONTHS

OCTOBER

“SO WHAT’S the deal with Sam?” Ryke asks, si ng on the hotel chair with an energy drink in hand, only wearing a pair of jeans.

“He’s late,” Connor declares as he unbu ons his white shirt. “So we all know you two will hit it o .”

Ryke shoots him the middle nger.

I check my watch. “He’s not that late.” I almost never defend Samuel Stokes—because we don’t get along.

Story of my life.

I pull my black shirt over my head, tossing it on my small du el bag. My costume lies on the hotel bed along with Connor’s. We each arrived at the conven on in di erent cars, trying to throw o the paparazzi. Stepping out of the Princeton house wearing our costumes wasn’t an op on. We’d be all over the internet. The headline, Lily Calloway and Loren Hale Go to Philly Comic-Con, would be enough to send Lily running back inside.

So we’re changing here while Lily and her three sisters dress in another hotel room, and then we’re mee ng the girls downstairs at the conven on

oor.

“From the few handshakes we’ve had here and fucking there, I know absolutely nothing about the guy,” Ryke says.

Connor takes o his bu on-down. “He’s twenty-seven, the Chief Marke ng and Commercial O cer of Fizzle, receiving the posi on purely by nepo sm,” he says without missing a beat. “His prior employment was Dairy Queen, and he has a four-year-old daughter with Poppy Cadence Calloway Stokes.”

“Fucking fantas c,” Ryke says dryly. “I asked what’s his deal, not for his fucking resume, Cobalt.” Ryke nods to me, looking for a be er answer.

“I want to say that Sam’s an asshole like the rest of us,” I tell him. “But I don’t think about him that much.” Thinking about Sam means I have to dig through painful childhood memories. Where I threw back drinks to drown out the world. Where I vandalized houses. Where I screamed.

Where I ran.

Where I became a thing to be hated.

Samuel Stokes showed up in Poppy’s life at fourteen.

I was only eight. I can’t imagine that he sees me as anything more than a delinquent, rich kid.

And then, within maybe a second, a st raps against the door.

Connor goes to greet the person on the other side, simultaneously unbuckling his belt. When Connor constantly wears collared shirts and preppy a re, it’s hard to tell that he’s ripped. He has be er de ni on in his muscles than me, and I work out a lot to rid stress—but running cuts my muscle mass down.

“You’re late,” Connor says easily, swinging the door open. Without paying much a en on to Sam, Connor returns to his wardrobe on the bed.

“Try having a four-year-old throw a tantrum over her Princess Peach costume.” Sam walks further in the room, a travel-du el slung over his shoulder. “I had to leave her at the Villanova house with Poppy’s mom.” Sam nods at Ryke and me in acknowledgement. “What are you two dressing as?”

I lean an arm on the television cabinet and swallow a smartass comment. “The Shirtless Wonder,” I banter. “With my sidekick.” I gesture to Ryke who hasn’t moved his ass o the chair. My brother raises his brows and sips his drink, sizing up Sam with a long once-over.

Really Sam can be described in two words:

Pre y boy.

When he was younger, he had the whole nine es grunge look down, his hair hanging half in his eyes, like he was part of the Hansons. Now his brown hair is out of his slightly unshaven face, dressed in a plain shirt and jeans—he’s the picture perfect representa on of normality.

Without an ounce of humor, Sam says, “It looks like you’re going as Cyclops.” He mo ons to my navy and gold costume on the bed with a red visor: Cyclops circa 2010 comic book era. Before Bendis turned him into a villain. A er he lost Jean Grey and had one of the strongest, most con dent and beloved mutants by his side.

It’s this Sco Summers that I love the most. Somewhere between good and bad. Somewhere between a s and a revolu onary.

“Caught me,” I say with a half-smile.

He sets his du el on the free bed and then glances back at Ryke. “What are you drinking?”

He shakes his energy drink can and then takes a large swig.

“Try this.” Sam rummages in the pocket of his du el before pulling out a slim black can with a lightning bolt insignia. He tosses it to Ryke, who easily catches it in one hand.

My brother reads the label. “Lightning Bolt…with an exclama on point. What is this shit?” He inspects it like Sam handed him arsenic. And then Ryke pops the fucking tab and takes a sip.

I just shake my head. How has he not died yet?

“You didn’t know what it was, and yet you s ll drank it?” Connor says aloud. “Now I’m ques oning our friendship.”

“Good,” Ryke says, “because I ques on it every fucking day.”

“I remember now, why we’re friends.” Connor steps into his costume’s black pants. “Every man needs a dog.” He pauses. “Lassie taught me that.”

I slow clap.

“Fuck you,” Ryke says.

“I thought it was a compliment,” Connor replies casually with a grin. “Everyone loves Lassie.”

Sam sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re holding an energy drink,” he tells Ryke, circling back to the point. “Fizzle created it. We’re unveiling the product in a few days.”

“It’s not bad,” Ryke says, scru nizing the Lightning Bolt! can.

“Good because if you’re around Lily at all, you can’t drink brands from Fizzle’s compe tors. It’s bad marke ng.”

“No problem.” Ryke stands and tosses his old energy drink in the wastebasket.

We all concentrate on changing clothes. Sam rises and tugs his shirt o before unzipping his du el. I become acutely aware that he has four years on Connor and Ryke and six years on me with the way he begins commanding the room. Con dent posture, assured stance—a build that would suit someone heading into the army. Not that he’s ever going to enlist like his father and four brothers.

Sammy took another path in life to be with the rich and now the famous.

By the me I have the gold belt around my waist, along with ght navy pants and boots, Ryke lounges on the chair.

“You can’t seriously be nished,” I say, scanning his dark green leather jacket, a hood a ached, and an iden cal colored crew-neck. Black jeans to top o his simple look.

Sam scru nizes him. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Green Arrow.”

I shake my head in disapproval. He wore the same exact costume almost one year ago—when I rst met him.

“It’s the only thing I have,” Ryke says to me. “And what does it fucking ma er?”

“I can see your face.” I point at him. “You can pretend your li le hood will conceal your features, but the moment we hit the conven on oor, people are going to swarm us.”

“I’m going to shave,” Ryke declares. “And I have black paint that I’m going to use for a mask.”

“Where’s your bow and arrow?” Sam asks, scanning the room for Ryke’s props.

“I le them at my apartment—”

I groan.

Connor says, “Not surprised.”

“Look, I already had one of the girls swing by my place and pick them up on their way. Problem solved.” Probably Daisy…but I smother that suspicion. It shouldn’t ma er if she was the one—they’re just friends. Like he said. I’d rather not put my doubts in Sam’s head either.

Ryke zips up his leather jacket. “And worry about yourself, Cobalt.”

“That’s the thing,” Connor says, “I don’t have to worry about myself.” He ts his black mask over his eyes and nose, shrouding half his face. “It’s called con dence, in case you were confused.”

“Sounds more like arrogance,” Ryke says.

“Closely related,” he says, not denying a thing.

Sam snaps his blue belt around his waist. “Poppy has my shield,” he says to Ryke, “so do you want to stop by the girls’ room with me?” He’s being all buddy-buddy with my brother, which has me a bit on guard.

Connor checks his watch on the bed. “Rose already texted me that they’re wai ng on the ballroom level.” Everyone is pre y much ready except my brother, who’s been slacking. “Hurry up and shave, Ryke.”

“I’ll just meet you fucking down there.” Ryke heads to the bathroom.

“No,” Connor says. “A man never leaves his dog behind.”

Ryke ips him o , not turning around as he does so. He disappears in the bathroom.

Connor grins. We end up wai ng for Ryke in the doorway. Sam leans his shoulder on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The expression he wears—the faint humor mixed with seriousness as his lips rise— ts his character too well.

“Captain America,” I say. “Aren’t you glad you le your four-year-old at home? She’d learn words like fuck o and fucking fuck all within the span of thirty minutes.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sam says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap back.

“He’s your brother, right? Cut from the same cloth.”

I don’t curse as much as Ryke, not even close, but he’s saying that he’d be hesitant to let his child around me. I can’t do anything but glare.

Sam sighs, seeing that I’m taking o ense to this. “I didn’t mean anything by it other than you’re both rough around the edges.” I don’t tear my gaze o him, and to throw up a white ag or maybe prove a point, he calls out to my brother, “Do you plan on procrea ng, Ryke?”

“Yeah,” Ryke shouts back. “And I hope my kid is a horrible in uence on yours.”

Sam looks at me and outstretches his arms like am I right?

Yeah. My lips li . Maybe he is.

Thrive

CHAPTER SEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 02 MONTHS

OCTOBER

“BATMAN?” I stand beneath a towering gure with pink lips and broad shoulders. And I think: Please let this be Connor Cobalt. Within ten minutes, I lost my sisters among the costumed-clad masses. I was distracted by the best Ninja Turtle cosplay, of all things.

I’d search for the numerous Captain Americas and Black Widows, but it’s easy to tell which ones aren’t Sam and Poppy. Same goes for Cyclops— who’d be my rst choice.

But the Batmans—I can’t discern from faraway. So this is my h

a empt at rejoining my group.

The guy lowers his head a li le so his blue eyes meet mine. And then he says in a deep voice, “I am Batman.”

Okaaay. “But do I know you?” I ask. I wish I could just be like: Hey, Connor, are you messing with me? I’d rather not shout his name too loudly. Even though “Connor” isn’t so original, people could put two and two together, right? And then they’ll gure out that I’m Lily Calloway.

I straighten my blonde wig in anxiety, hoping that the gli er on my face is a good enough disguise. If it was up to me, I’d be a pink Power Ranger— totally hidden from head-to-toe. However, Rose and Lo said I need to be par ally exposed to the world because I can’t dress up all the me.

I feel fully exposed. I mean, these white spandex booty shorts are riding up and my top is nothing more than a boob corset with laces in the front.

And I think Batman may be checking out my cleavage, which is sparse. He can’t be Connor— “Should I know you?” Batman asks like he has gravel in his throat.

“Nope,” I say. “I don’t think we’ve crossed paths before.” O to nd the next Batman. Or hopefully the right Sco Summers.

Just as I pass him, Batman sets a hand on my shoulder. “Wait, I do know you.” He broke character, his voice no longer abnormally low.

My eyes bug. “No you don’t.” I knew I should have been the Pink Ranger.

“Yes I do.” He smiles, which looks odd. Batman doesn’t smile like that.

“I’m no one,” I say stupidly and immediately blush. “Ihavetogo,” I mumble that last bit out.

“I do know you,” he says. “You’re Emma Frost. The White Queen. Biggest bitch.”

I glare.

“Hey and you kind of look like her too. Though your boobs need to be a lot bigger. It threw me o at rst.”

I purse my lips, feeling a li le o ended like Rose would. “Stop making Batman look like a pervert.” As I pass, my shoulder shoves into his, and I stomp away. It’s probably way more badass in my head than actuality. Something about costumes—about being someone else—gives me a bit of con dence that I’ve lost since my addic on was publicized.

“You even sound like her too!” he calls out.

I turn around, walking backwards. I contemplate shoo ng him the middle nger, but my balls haven’t grown to that size yet. Instead I squint, hoping all he sees is a ery, narrowed gaze full of irrita on.

He laughs.

Damn.

Suddenly, my back bumps into a hard chest.

I freeze.

This is a man-chest.

For sure.

“I lost something recently,” he tells me.

My heart swells at the familiar voice, and I spin around to drop-dead-gorgeous cheekbones, a ruby-red visor, and lips that pull into a breathtaking smile.

“Found her,” he says.

I don’t know why those words almost bring tears to my eyes—but they do. They resonate deep within my soul, lling a part of me that only Loren Hale can reach.

I ing my arms around his neck, standing on the ps of my toes, and I kiss him. I feel safe in my costume and safe in his arms.

No one can stop me from loving him.

He kisses back, and he li s me into a front piggy-back. In the middle of the ballroom oor, booths lining the walls, people milling around us.

I lose sense of everything, except the way his hands hold me close, the way his urgency, the degree of his love, matches mine.

“I missed you,” I say between kisses.

He grips my ass, my legs wrapped securely around his waist, ankles crossed. All is well. “Me too, love.”

We’ve been apart for three hours.

And then the surrounding noise escalates and breaches my happy place. Guys are whistling. Girls are clapping.

“S ck it in, Cyclops!” someone yells.

“There are kids here!” an angrier person rebuts.

“Emma Frost, looking hot!”

“Sco , stop chea ng on Jean Grey!” Obviously that guy hasn’t realized that Jean Grey is dead.

I break from Lo’s lips for a second, the place between my legs throbbing for a harder entry, but I force the need away, shelving it as I concentrate on more important things.

Like being a spectacle without people even knowing our real names.

Camera ashes blind my eyes, and every fanboy and fangirl watch us like we’re reenac ng a scene from an X-Men comic.

We’re not.

We’re just…in love? Horny? Both. De nitely both.

“Letmedownletmedown,” I slur together in haste (and fright), tapping Lo’s arm.

He sets me on my feet but instantly grabs my hand, lacing his ngers with mine. “I’m not losing you again,” he says. He scans our audience, and they start cheering.

“Encore! Encore!” about ve people shout.

Nooooo. Well…I take it back. There will most certainly be an encore. Only no one will be watching it. Just Lo and me. Alone.

Lo draws me out of the crowds, giving them a s wave to say that the

show is over. Now we’re just part of the masses again.

“Should we go to the hotel room?” I whisper.

I can’t see his eyes behind the visor, but he stares down at me with an in mida ng scowl. He makes a good Sco Summers.

“Not to have sex,” I amend.

“We have friends now, remember? No more fake Stacey and Charlie.”

“Right,” I say. No more scapegoats.

“And with great friends comes great responsibility,” he tells me. “Like trying to listen to your sister talk without me referencing a demonic en ty.” He looks at me. “It’s torture.”

Before I can reply, someone shouts, “I see her!”

I only inch into Lo because Daisy’s voice emanates from seemingly nowhere. I whip my head around—how can she see me? And probably the least helpful thought pops up: She’d be an awesome spy.

“Emma!” Daisy shouts, using my character name to avoid a rac ng the wrong gazes. Thank you, Daisy.

I nally spot her…and she’s s cking out of the crowd by a Cider Rose Comics booth—the indies where Lo would’ve put Halway if he wanted to promote. He didn’t, and his father cut into him for that one.

“Is my li le sister oa ng above people?” What the…I lt my head. Her legs are as high as the heads. Is she standing on a table?

Oh.

No.

She’s on someone’s shoulders.

“Come on,” Lo says, quickening his pace.

Daisy’s short, bright orange wig molds her face. She wears a cropped white shirt and gold spandex. The giveaway of her costume happens to be orange foam suspenders that go beneath her crotch like a thong. I couldn’t pull o Leeloo from The Fi h Element with the same vigor as Daisy.

We reach the line of indie booths, and I expect my sister to be on some stranger’s body. She’s way too trus ng. The opposite of me, I realize.

I was wrong though.

She’s on Ryke’s shoulders. Standing. Not si ng.

His hands clutch her calves so rmly that I doubt she can even shi an inch. He has on the same Green Arrow ou it from last year’s Halloween— oh my God, he shaved. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ryke completely shaven.

He looks more like Lo. I don’t like it one bit.

“Hey, guys,” Daisy says with a bright, beaming smile. She playfully twirls her plas c gun and aims it at no one in par cular. “Have you seen any aliens that I need to kill?”

“Yeah,” Lo says, “Connor should be around here somewhere with your sister.”

I nudge Lo in the side. “Batman and Catwoman aren’t aliens.”

Lo lts his head at me. “But Connor Cobalt and Rose Calloway might as well be.”

I cover his lips, but it’s too late. Those names have already dri ed in the air and penetrated a few ears. I grimace. Penetrated. Ears. Ew…bad one.

“Fine, only Connor Cobalt then,” he mumbles through my palm.

“Don’t say ‘you know whose’ name.” I drop my hand.

His brows harden. “Voldemort.”

I punch him in the arm. Though I fell into that Harry Po er reference-trap too easily.

He mock winces. “Ow.”

I take a deep breath and glance at my li le sister. She now sits on Ryke’s shoulders. He grabs her by the waist and li s her o his body, dropping her on her feet—a lot less carefully than Lo usually does to me.

She lands perfectly ne, thankfully.

“She’s a girl,” Lo tells Ryke, mo oning to Daisy who twirls her gun and searches the area for our older sisters.

“I didn’t no ce,” Ryke says with thick sarcasm.

“Just don’t be rough with her,” Lo tells him, less defensively. He’s trying not to jump down his brother’s throat about Daisy.

“If she can’t handle me, then I wouldn’t have let her on my shoulders.”

“I can’t handle you, but you s ll hang around me. What do you call that?” Lo asks.

“Tough love.”

Lo nods a few mes, and that conversa on is cut o by loud bickering.

“You can’t just take my whip, Richard,” she says. “It’s part of my costume. You’re breaking the conven on’s protocol.”

“And you’re making up rules. Are the c onal costume police going to jail me in their invisible prison?”

“Ugh! You are so…” She growls. They come into view, only about ten feet away. Rose stands with her hands perched on her hips, her black leather pants and leather jacket just as badass as her Catwoman eye-mask and ears. Her hair is sleeked back into a pony. Even in her s le o boots, Connor stands four inches above her, appearing to have an advantage.

Batman and Catwoman are irt- gh ng.

The fangirl inside of me is singing right now.

“You love me,” Connor tells her, s ll holding her black whip, the source of their argument.

“The more you say it, the more untrue it becomes.”

“It’s just the opposite.” He takes a step nearer.

Rose raises her chin, not recoiling. She snaps, “So now it’s Opposite Day?”

I’m fairly certain that beneath his Batman mask, a single brow arches. He has that arrogant look in his eyes, the one he wears a lot be er than most people. “I didn’t declare an uno cial, kind of pointless, holiday, but if you want to, go ahead. I doubt anyone will listen.”

She smacks his chest. “Don’t insult me, Richard.”

Ryke asks, “Are we going to keep watching them?” He stands right beside me.

Lo and I nod at the same me, xated on the couple who provide too much entertainment. No one on this planet are like these two. “Maybe you’re right,” I whisper to Lo. “Maybe they are extraterrestrials.”

“It would explain a lot,” Lo agrees.

“Like why Connor never stu ers.”

“Why Rose makes babies cry when she walks past them,” Lo adds.

I nod. “And why Connor never has a bad hair day.”

Lo laughs. “That’d be his hundred-dollar hair products.”

“Oh.” I pause. “Maybe his shampoo comes from space.”

Ryke shakes his head at us. “You two are so fucking weird.”

At that fact, Lo squeezes my hand. Today is de nitely a good idea. I don’t think I’ve felt like this since Cancun—before the media hoopla.

I don’t want it to end.

I watch Rose point a threatening nger at Connor. “You’re just bi er because I beat you at chess four mes in a row last night. Now you’re stealing my things out of spite.”

Connor raises her whip, half of the black leather wrapped around his hand. “I only stole this because you were minutes from snapping it at that guy, which would have sent you to real jail.”

“He smacked that girl’s ass! Just because she was dressed in spandex— it didn’t give him the right to touch her without her permission.”

“I agree, but you can’t whip every person that makes your blood boil.”

They’re only an inch or so apart now. “What if he did that to me?” she asks seriously.

He stares in her yellow-green piercing eyes for a long, long moment, reading her gaze. I s ll wish I had that superpower—or that smart person ability.

Finally he says, “I would’ve stepped in.” So far, Connor hasn’t really had the opportunity to protect Rose from a rude guy. Usually she does all the yelling and pushing herself before he even arrives.

“Even if you’re not her boyfriend, you should have stepped in like I did.”

“Clearly I’m not as moral as you, darling. You know this about me.”

Rose’s eyes narrow even more. Then she stomps forward, almost challengingly, and pauses for drama c e ect. With so much con dence, she grabs the back of his head and licks his face slowly, star ng from his chin all the way to his nose—like a cat.

Connor stands poised, unmoving and unblinking. But his grin could sha er the world.

My smile grows. “Did she just…”

“Yeah,” Lo con rms, sounding impressed. She recreated a scene from Batman Returns where Michelle P e er licks Michael Keaton’s face. I’m not sure if Rose has seen the movie or if it’s just a coincidence.

“Daisy?” Ryke suddenly glances around. “Fuck. She ran o …” He whips around to go nd her, and as he rotates, a sharper piece of his bow hooks onto the strings of my corset. With Ryke’s haste (and strength), my costume rips right down the middle.

I gasp, my hands ying to my chest. Ohmygod.

I am naked! Nearly naked. Half-naked. Topless.

Shit.

I try to hold the costume together with just my ngers. “Lo!”

“Hey, it’s okay, Lil.” He spins me towards his chest and hides my body from view. Why is this happening? What Leprechaun did I piss o ?

“Fuck…” Ryke says again, his hands on his head. “I’m sorry…”

“Can you go nd Daisy?” Lo asks.

Ryke frowns and rocks back with shock. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m going to help Lily, so…” He can’t go look for my sister himself. Neither can I now that I may have, sort of, ashed a crowd of superheroes.

“I’ll catch up with you once I’ve found her,” Ryke says before he disappears.

And then a couple Disney Princesses ask, “Hey…are you Lily Calloway?” Noooo.

I shake my head at Ariel, envious of her shell-bra that I could de nitely use right about now.

“You called him Lo,” one girl says with a giddy smile, gesturing to my boyfriend / best friend / ancé.

This is not happening.

I turn to look at Rose for more con dence. She points somewhere and mouths, Bathroom. Now.

“Lo…”

“I saw,” he says, already leading me to the bathroom. My knuckles whiten as I try to force this stupid corset together with just the strength of my ngers. The trek to the bathroom is surprisingly fast—maybe because I was thinking about side-boob the en re me.

The door breezes open, and Rose clears out the stalls with one shout: “Can you believe it?! Michael Fassbender is outside!”

I’ve never heard toilets ush that quickly in my life.

When the last girl exits, Connor and Lo enter.

I am praying upon every star in the universe and galac c, habitable planets that my genius sister has a plan.

Thrive

CHAPTER EIGHT

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 02 MONTHS

OCTOBER

“STOP MOVING, LIL,” I order, trying to e the strings together on her corset. Most of the hooks are torn apart, but I nd one intact.

It barely closes her top.

“Let me see,” Lily says to Poppy, who’s checking the internet for photos of us while Sam guards the door. Captain America’s greatest duty is standing outside a girl’s restroom. It’d be hilarious if Lily’s eyes weren’t about to pop out of her head.

“It’s just a couple photos,” Poppy proclaims, about to show Lily her cell.

Rose snatches the phone out of her hand, censoring my girlfriend from the news. “It’s ne, Lily. Don’t freak out.”

“How can I not freak out?” she asks. “People know we’re here. They could be swarming the area, ready to a ack.”

I raise my brows at her. “This isn’t Mortal Kombat. No one is going to a ack you when we step through the doors.” I whisper, “You’re safe, Lil. I promise.”

“Technically,” Connor says to Lily—I straighten up with a glare—“they only know about you and Lo. No one thinks we’re here.”

“Even be er,” I chime in with a bi er smile.

“I have a plan,” Rose proclaims, hands on her hips.

Connor stares Rose down, his blue eyes popping among his black Batman a re. “Care to consult me rst, hun? Our two brains are be er than yours alone.”

“No,” Rose snaps with nality. “My brain can solve this crisis just ne.”

Connor leans his back against the sink counters and crosses his arms. “And if you add my brain to yours, we’d have a much higher IQ—”

“Our combined IQs wouldn’t even be humanly possible,” she cuts him o .

“Exactly. We defy the impossible,” he says with a smartass grin.

We’ll be here all day if they don’t shut up. “Okay, we get it,” I interject. “You’re both equally intelligent.”

“We’re not completely equal,” Connor says.

Rose hu s. “So what? You have a higher IQ than me. I don’t even want to be that smart. You know why?”

“Here we go,” I mu er under my breath. When I look down at Lily, she no longer concentrates on her wardrobe malfunc on. She stops shi ing and leans her weight into my body. I rest my arms on her shoulders, wan ng her even closer, but this’ll have to be enough right now.

Rose and Connor’s ghts de nitely push away her worries—for a moment anyway.

I’ll take it.

“Why?” Connor asks casually.

“Because you see the world in a way that no one can understand.”

I don’t know what she means. At all.

“Why is that so bad?” he asks.

“Because you can’t explain yourself without confusing people,” she says. “You have to keep all of your thoughts to yourself because there’s no one smart enough to understand you. I wouldn’t want that burden. I wouldn’t want to be so put o by socie es’ constructs only to realize that, in the end, you have to follow them. I wouldn’t want to live as something lesser than I am.”

The silence deafens the bathroom. I wear a heavy frown like Lily. I can’t imagine what Connor thinks about on a day-to-day basis. So contempla ng his beliefs—it’s out of my reach.

“You say there’s no one smart enough to understand me,” Connor breathes. “Maybe you should listen to your own words, Rose. You sound pre y understanding.” He pauses. “What’s the plan you had in mind for Lily? We don’t have much me.”

Rose takes a deep breath, her collarbones sharpening. She closes that argument and focuses on Lily. “You’re going to the director’s panel.”

“Rose,” I snap. I don’t want to give Lily false hope. She can’t go to a panel and have people bombard her the en re me. She’ll crawl into herself.

Rose holds her hand at my face like shut up.

I could smack it away, but I’m not le ng go of my girlfriend.

Her eyes fall to Lily’s. “We’re switching ou its.”

“What?” Lily and I say in unison.

Connor doesn’t look surprised, and Poppy is nodding like it’s the best idea she’s ever heard.

“No one has pictures of me,” Rose reminds us.

“Your boobs are bigger than mine,” Lily notes. “And so is your ass.”

“I don’t care.” Rose already plucks Lily’s blonde wig o her head. “You can leave the bathroom as Catwoman and go watch the panel.”

I stare hard at Rose. She’s gone insane. “They have photos of me.”

“I never said you could go with Lily. I’d tell you and Connor to switch ou its, but he’s too tall for your ghts.”

“Spandex pants,” I correct her, though Lily looks down at my crotch. Her cheeks ush. The pants are form- ng enough to show way more

than what most guys are comfortable revealing.

“Tights,” Rose retorts, just to aggravate me. “I think I know fashion be er than you.”

“Whatever.”

Rose unzips her leather jacket and hands it to Lily. “So you’ll go with Connor, and I’ll stay with Loren.”

“What?” I shake my head. “No. I’m not ac ng like you’re Lily. This is beyond insane, even for you.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Poppy chimes in.

“Maybe that red wig is bleeding into your brain,” I snap. She’s out of her bohemian shirts and into a Black Widow costume.

“Come on, it’s just pretend,” she tells me.

“Just when I thought I liked you, Poppy.”

She laughs. Poppy may be the hardest person to o end. Right up there with Connor Cobalt. And then she adds, “You’re good at pretend, Loren. You did it for three years with Lily.”

My face contorts. She doesn’t even realize what we did to each other in those three years. I used to tease the hell out of Lily. I used to touch her— and there is no way in hell I’m groping Rose. I’d rather set my hands on re.

“It’s not like you have to kiss Rose,” Poppy says, reading my features well.

I cringe again. “Don’t even talk about that.” I glance at Connor, who should reassure me about this stupid plot where we switch girlfriends.

But he stays quiet.

“So now you don’t have anything to say?” I ask him.

“Rose and Lily aren’t twins, so it’s not like this’ll work out perfectly,” he tells me. “But it’ll buy Lily the me she needs to go see the panel, and that’s why we’re here.”

“I don’t have to go—” Lily starts.

“No.” Rose tosses her leather jacket to her younger sister. “You’re going.”

“Rose, seriously, you won’t t in my ou it,” Lily says, though she inspects the leather jacket with longing. Maybe this isn’t the worst idea.

“Don’t worry about that.” Rose shes out her sewing kit from her clutch purse. “Connor, Loren, turn around or leave while we change.”

I knew that was coming.

I kiss Lily on the lips, and she grips my belt, not le ng me go. “What is it?” I ask.

“I’m scared,” she whispers. “But I don’t want to disappoint anyone by giving up.”

Without the wig, her hair’s in a messy bun. I tuck a yaway strand behind her ear. “If anyone stares, it’s because you’re Catwoman, not because you’re Lily Calloway.” Or a sex addict. I kiss her forehead. “You can do this, Lil.”

Her hand slides along my waist, and I snatch it before she clings to me. She can’t drown her anxiety with her vice.

I know this be er than anyone.

“Okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she nods more resolutely.

I leave her side to go stand next to Connor by the sinks, our backs facing the girls while they change. I imagine Rose pretending to be my girlfriend the moment we exit the bathroom, and I just shake my head at the mayhem. “Rose and I are going to kill each other ve feet out the door.”

“On the bright side,” Connor says, “Emma Frost doesn’t have a weapon.” He unfurls the whip and snaps it in the air. “That could’ve been your ass.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I banter.

He grins widely, looking less like Batman and way more like Connor Cobalt. “So much it hurts,” he replies. “Just make sure you walk next to Rose and not ahead of her when you leave. She hates that.”

Are you shi ng me? “Anything else? I’m trying to avoid my heart being ripped out and fed to baby demons.”

“I heard that,” Rose retorts.

I almost spin around.

But she shrieks, “Don’t you dare look, Loren! I’ll literally stab your eyeball with my needle!”

“She’s topless,” Lily clari es with a grunt, like she’s struggling to put on her boots or pants.

I glare at the ceiling. “I’m de nitely going to die today.”

“You won’t,” Connor says. “You’ve lasted this long.”

“True.” I let out a sigh and then nod to him. “I’m surprised you’re not going to try and catch a peek.” As far as I know, he’s never even seen Rose naked. They get o by talking more than they do by fooling around—it’s kind of nuts.

“I know be er,” he tells me, taking his mask o , his wavy brown hair s ll contained, not even close to being unkempt and out of control. I pull my red visor to the top of my head and think back to how Rose described him. He has more power in his eyes without the mask, I realize.

“We’re nished,” Rose declares.

We both turn towards the girls who stand beside the stalls. My gaze immediately falls on Lily, standing with way more con dence in her black leather jacket and pants, less revealing.

I smile at how cute she looks in cat ears and a simple black eye-mask.

“Is anyone going to say something?” Poppy wonders.

Lily and I break our gazes at the same me, and the moment I see Rose, my jaw just fucking drops. I laugh. “Damn, Rose.” She sewed the strings back on the corset, but it’s much smaller on her chest, pushing up her breasts, and the silver spandex shorts might as well be underwear, riding up her ass. “You’d make a perfect Cowboy’s cheerleader.”

“Shut up, Loren.”

“You’re a terrible blonde though.”

She actually ips me o .

I probably deserved that one.

Connor hasn’t said a word, but I read the expression on his face really well this me. His eyes graze every inch of her, full of lust, like he’s saving the image for later. Might as well. Who knows when Rose will be comfortable enough to have sex?

“Do you have something to say?” Rose asks, raising her chin like she’s ready to combat him.

“You look beau ful.” The sincerity is clear in his voice.

Her shoulders drop, caught o guard.

Lily approaches me and holds my hand about the same me that Rose walks up to her boyfriend.

“You know what?” Lily says, her lips curving upward.

“What?” I ask, her smile making me smile.

“Catwoman is awesome.”

I’m not sure if she means Rose or the costume. Most likely both.

Right now, I kind of have to agree. Rose is strong. But so is Lily. She possesses this rare courage. It’s quiet and unassuming, but it s ll exists. It’s s ll just as worthy.

I rub her back and realize that Rose has her arms wrapped around Connor’s neck. One of his hands dips to her ass, and she lets it sit there. One minute they’re gh ng. The next minute, they’re like this. I can’t keep up.

I strain my ears to catch their murmured words. “I want to move in with you,” Connor whispers under his breath.

My rst thought: If he lives at the Princeton house, he’s going to discover that I’m fucking Lily a lot more. Not: Thank God I won’t be the only guy under that roof.

The addicted side of me trumps every moral part.

I’m a fucking terrible friend.

“You can’t,” Rose replies. “Your commute to Penn is too far…and Lily and Lo…”

“The commute is manageable, and Lo and Lily love me.” He pauses. “Do you?”

“Don’t manipulate me,” she whispers.

“I’m not trying to. I just want to be with you more than I am now. I’ll wait a few months if that’s what it takes.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Poppy clears her throat. “I hate to interrupt, but Sam just texted me and said the crowds are star ng to gather around the bathroom.” Her eyes meet mine. “They’re wai ng for you and Lily.”

Great.

Rose disentangles from her boyfriend and goes back into commander mode. “Lily, go with Connor,” she orders like she’s preparing for war.

I just hope there’s no friendly re.

“FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, give her space,” I say, trying not to touch Rose. She’s having a hard me shielding her face from cellphone cameras. She uses the blonde wig to hide, which helps some.

We just need to reach the elevator. Connor already texted me and said they’re wai ng in line for the panel with Poppy and Sam.

No one no ced Lily dressed as Catwoman.

“Are you in love with Loren or Ryke?” people keep asking. Through my visor, everyone and everything is nted red.

Rose surprisingly keeps quiet. She must be literally bi ng her tongue to stop from lashing out.

“Are you in a ght?” someone asks. “Why aren’t you holding Lily?”

“Yeah. You always hold Lily!”

Shit.

Rose glares at me out of the corner of her eye. This is a girl who I’ve never even hugged before. Fuck, besides Connor, I’ve only ever seen her hug someone maybe three mes in my en re life.

“She’s sick,” I say sharply, my voice like fucking knives right now. “So you should all back up in case you catch it.”

The crowds start rocke ng backwards like I said she had the bubonic plague. Jesus Christ.

“Does she have herpes?” someone asks.

Anger twists my face, my jaw clenching. “No,” I sneer, trying to nd the source of that voice. My heart beats rapidly.

“You sound awfully defensive.”

I stop dead in my tracks, the cameras clicking, and now the real press shows up, pushing through glass double doors, padding along the ugly hotel carpet. About to bombard us.

“Come on, Loren,” Rose says under her breath. She grips my forearm

ghtly and literally pulls me into the elevator. Before the doors shut, two

people sprint towards us, a girl cradled in a guy’s arms. I repeatedly push the bu on to close the metal doors. But I stop the moment they slip inside, when I recognize the girl with the bright orange wig and the guy with the green leather jacket.

“Finally we fucking found you,” Ryke says, his arm underneath Daisy’s legs and against her back. At rst I think they’re playing around, but Daisy wears a faint, pained expression.

I frown. “What happened?”

Ryke very carefully places her feet on the ground, and she leans her weight against him. “She popped her knee out of the socket doing a fucking back ip,” he explains.

“I was in character,” she adds, bending down to massage her knee.

“Hey, stop, Dais.” He moves her hand away. “Wait for some ice rst.” He looks up at me and then completely freezes when he sees Rose.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she snaps.

“You’re wearing Lily’s costume,” is all he can fucking say. He’s staring at Rose like he wants to bang her.

I smack the back of his head.

He blinks a few mes, as though it just now registers in his brain who she is, along with her boyfriend’s iden ty. “I’m just fucking surprised. Give me a minute to process this.”

Rose xes the wig on her head. “Process it and then move on.” She looks to a confused Daisy. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you in the room.” She asks, “Where’d you run o to anyway?”

“Outside,” she tells her. “I just needed some fresh air.” The elevator abruptly stops on our oor, and Daisy almost topples over, teetering on one leg. Without asking, Ryke swi ly li s Daisy back in his arms. A smile spreads across her face.

I internally shake my head. Then my phone buzzes in my belt, distrac ng me. I take it out.

This is the second best day of my life. The director just accidentally

touched my pinky nger!!!! – Lily

I smile so goddamn much that I can hear my father yelling at me for it. He used to do that when I was a kid. Be serious for once in your fucking life, Loren.

My lips fall. I text back: What’s the rst best day? I press send in an instant.

She’s quick to reply.

The day I fell in love with you. – Lily

I shut my eyes for a second, and I try to remember that day. I try to transport my mind back to that place. But for every warmth there is cold. For every ounce of light there is blackness.

And for every happy memory, there is grief and pain.

I can’t remember that day without crawling through it all.

So I open my eyes, and I let it dri away.

It’s okay.

I’m going to make new best days with Lily Calloway.

I can feel it.

Thrive

CHAPTER NINE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 03 MONTHS

NOVEMBER

OUR ANNUAL THANKSGIVING tradi on has been put to rest, buried with other normal things that I can no longer do. We usually have a pre-meal at Lucky’s Diner before ea ng with our families, but I haven’t been back in three months: my twenty- rst birthday when the manager refused to close the blinds.

Last Thanksgiving, the only people who knew about my sex addic on were Rose, Connor, and Ryke. Before all of that, we used to just sit at a family dinner table, carrying a lie in our hearts. Now that my addic on is out in the open, the event has been more awkward and uncomfortable for every person involved.

My mom hasn’t even looked at me, and the weight only slowly ascends o my chest when we take a break before co ee and dessert.

“Are we having a sister powwow?” Daisy asks as she jumps on our father’s oak desk.

Rose said she had something important to tell us, so the four of us retreated to the study before our mom calls us back for pie.

I sit on the uglier paisley armchair, a spring hur ng my bu . I silently wish for the Hale’s leather couches that I can sink into.

“Did Connor propose?” Poppy asks, a smile already enveloping her face. She crosses her legs on the suede couch.

Rose inches back in surprise. “Of course not.”

I try to adjust on the chair. Nope, the spring is de nitely going to bruise my ass a er this.

Poppy says, “I thought you were scared of babies, not matrimony.”

“First of all”—Rose paces in front of us—“I am not scared of babies. I hate babies. They scream for no reason and can’t walk properly.”

I shake my head.

Daisy laughs, swinging her legs and tossing a crystal paperweight in her hand.

“They’re li le—” Poppy tries to jus fy.

“Devils. They’re li le devils that only exist to annoy me.”

She’s too drama c for her own good.

“And strangely,” Poppy says, “Maria adores you out of every person in the family. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. That’s obviously a character aw on your daughter’s part. She can’t tell who her enemies are.”

I snort.

Poppy sighs heavily and then looks to me. “Is she afraid of marriage?” She wants a con rma on since I’m the closest to Rose.

I hold up my hands. “I know nothing.” I wait for someone to men on Jon Snow and Game of Thrones, but I realize that Lo’s the only one who’d understand the reference. Wrong audience. And he’s in the den with Connor and Sam.

Ryke was invited, seeing as how he’s not on speaking terms with his mom, but he refused to come. He said that he couldn’t be in the same room as Jonathan Hale, his father. There’s s ll bad blood there, but I wish he’d show up for Lo and for himself.

I picture Ryke all alone at his apartment, watching sports and ea ng a sandwich, no big fancy dinner. No family or companions, not even the loud, rowdy kind. There’s something sad about Ryke Meadows that he won’t let us see, but its quiet moments like this, where he’s gone, that I feel it anyway.

“…we haven’t even had sex.” I catch the tail end of Rose’s explana on.

“Yeah,” Daisy says, “but I thought you were just wai ng un l marriage.”

Rose pauses in the middle of the oor. “I’m wai ng un l I’m ready and with someone I love,” she refutes. “I’m not even sure I want to be married. And Connor wouldn’t propose just so he can have sex with me.”

“How do you know?” Poppy asks.

Rose shoots her a scathing glare.

She’s as used to them as the rest of us. “I’m just asking.”

“It’s like chea ng at a game,” she says. “It’s too easy for him.”

Their weird rela onship deserves to be observed. By me. I love it too much not to be a spectator. My smile consumes my face the longer I think about Connor and Rose’s back-and-forth nerd wars.

Rose rolls her eyes at me and starts pacing again.

“Why are we here then?” I wonder.

She pulls her shoulders back like she’s layering on armor. “As you know, Calloway Couture has been doing less than average lately.”

My stomach immediately plummets, my smile fading, and turkey starts rising to my throat. I swallow it back down. Apologies swim in my head.

It’s my fault. My sex addic on ruined her fashion line. There is no forgiveness for me, and I don’t want it.

She con nues on, “I’ve been struggling with serious solu ons, but recently, someone made an o er that might actually work. The only problem is that it involves the three of you.” Her yellow-green eyes ping from me to Poppy and then to Daisy. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I’ll understand if you say no.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Daisy says with a mischievous smile. “Color me intrigued.”

“Sounds like nothing,” I correct her. “She hasn’t said it yet.”

“What is ‘it’ exactly?” Poppy asks with air quotes.

“A reality show.”

My mouth immediately falls.

The room cakes in thick silence, but not the awkward kind. We’re all processing. And if we were in an X-Men comic right now, Poppy, Daisy and I would be the cuckoo sisters—thinking the exact same thing with their creepy telepathic hive-mind. There is no other response to Rose’s proclama on.

“You’re insane,” Poppy says rst.

I mock gasp. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Me too,” Daisy agrees and gives me a side-eye. “And you stole my mock gasp.”

Rose waves us o , as if commanding us to stop talking. “I’m not insane. Calloway Couture needs good exposure, and I may be rolling the dice with this show, but it’s something.” Her eyes travel to me. “And maybe the world can see you how we do. Funny, sweet, and not just a sex addict.”

Can that really happen? Won’t a reality show just place a bigger spotlight on our family? But…Rose is the genius…so she should know be er, right? If it’ll help my sister, I won’t ever say no.

I put her in this posi on to begin with.

“Okay,” I nod. “Let’s do it.”

Rose steps back like I exploded a bomb at her feet. Jeez, she must have been expec ng a ght. “Really? You can take more me to think about it, Lily. It’ll be a big change.”

A big change. I hate those. But some mes change can be good, right? That’s what my therapist tells me. “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t need more me. If there’s a chance this’ll help Calloway Couture, then I want to be involved.”

“I’m in,” Daisy tells us. “It sounds like fun, and besides, I’m used to cameras. So it’s not a big deal for me.”

Cameras…

More of them.

Don’t think about it, Lily.

We all turn to our oldest sister, who just sits on the couch in silent contempla on. She lets out a long sigh. “Why can’t the show just be about you, Rose?” she asks.

“The produc on company pitched that idea to the network, and they didn’t bite.” She holds in a breath, her collarbones protruding. “They wanted Lily in the show.” She takes a step towards me. “I don’t want to lie to you. You should know that the show will try to focus more on you than any of us—even if they’re calling it Princesses of Philly.”

Before I can assure her again, Poppy blazes ahead of me. “Is this really the only thing you can do?” she asks. “It seems dras c, and I’m concerned about Lily’s safety.”

“I would never inten onally put Lily in harm’s way,” Rose says. “I’ve tried everything, Poppy.” Is Rose about to cry? “This is my only chance.”

Poppy’s maternal side has kicked in, and she won’t back down yet. “So you’re going to put the family under more scru ny, all to save your fashion line?”

The loyal part of me almost comes to Rose’s aid, who rarely ever cries. But she’s ready with a quick response. I realize that she’s prepared for this type of ques oning. “I’ve talked with our parents. They both support the idea. They’ve consulted the publicists who believe we can’t sink much further, and maybe the media a en on will nally be posi ve.” She pauses to take a much needed breath. “So yes, Poppy, I’m willing to put our family under more scru ny. For Fizzle. For Lily. And sel shly, for my fashion line.”

Poppy relaxes a li le more, and she xes her brown hair o her shoulder. “Honestly, I wish I could just say yes. I want to stand by your side and support you, Rose, but I have a four-year-old daughter. I don’t want a camera in her face, and neither does Sam.”

“I understand,” Rose says. “I’ll get the contracts to Daisy and Lily to look over. The show can go on without you.”

I add, “But you will be missed.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “That was implied.”

The sex scandal has rocked my family in so many ways, but I just now realize that I’m not completely aware of the degree that it’s a ected Poppy. I just kinda hoped, all along, that it didn’t.

“Is she okay?” I ask Poppy, changing the subject again. “Maria, I mean. Paparazzi aren’t following her around or anything, right?”

“No, nothing like that,” Poppy says. “I think her last name saved her from the press. Stokes isn’t as vola le as Calloway right now.”

Good. At least one person in my family dodged the speeding bullet. I just wonder how many bullets a reality show will release, and who will be caught in the cross re this me.

Thrive

CHAPTER TEN

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 04 MONTHS

DECEMBER

“STOP CALLING,” I say with edge into the ip phone. Lily sits on the kitchen counter, ea ng peanut bu er from a jar. My gaze lingers on her, especially as she sucks her index nger and li s her thin legs to her chest.

My breathing deepens for a second, honing in on the way she licks the peanut bu er o . She hasn’t realized how sexual it looks, and I bask in this moment—the one before she blushes in embarrassment.

I grab two glasses in the cabinet beside her head, my arm brushing her cheek. My cock says to walk forward and t right up against her. I wait, only to watch her longer. She pops her nger out of her mouth, her eyes radia ng with eagerness when they meet mine. It’s a come hither that I return, edging closer. But instead of ac ng on her feelings, she tries to focus on the peanut bu er.

I set the glasses on the counter and run my hand through the side of her hair. Christ, I want inside of her. Now. But she ignores the mo on and squints at the label on the jar.

Through the phone’s speaker, Rose’s cold voice disrupts my thoughts. “You shouldn’t answer Lily’s cellphone. She has two hands.”

“Yeah? Well one is occupied,” I retort.

Lily rests the jar between her knees and lets out an audible moan with her second scoop of peanut bu er. Goddamn. My dick screams at me to respond to that noise. I resist, only because one of the biggest pains in my ass is s ll on the phone.

“You be er not be—”

“She’s ea ng,” I clarify, though that’s going to change once I hang up.

“Loren,” Rose snaps.

“She’s not blowing me. For Christ’s sake.”

Lily’s brows jump and her eyes bug. She mouths, what? Her gaze falls to the zipper on my jeans, and she blushes on cue.

I press the speaker bu on so she can hear her sister. And then I sh my bu on through my jeans, Lily’s mouth drops like I performed a fuckin’ circus trick.

I can’t help but smile. My girlfriend is beyond adorable.

Rose says, “I just want to know—”

“Privacy,” I state the one word that no one seems to understand, not even our friends and family. Maybe Poppy and Sam have their heads screwed on ght, since they both refused to sign their rights away to television producers.

“We asked to be alone on New Year’s Eve, and you’ve called us a record-breaking twenty mes.”

“And Lily didn’t answer eighteen of those,” Rose notes.

“Are you dying?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re dying or su ering from a life-threatening a ic on and not calling to check up on us.”

Lily mouths, be nice. But she’s ditched the peanut bu er, her ngers hooked in my belt loops, drawing me nearer.

I cup my hand over the speaker. “I’m being very nice right now,” I whisper. “I could have easily hung up on her a er I said my piece.” I wait for Rose to launch a grenade over the speaker, but she stays quiet, inadvertently answering me.

I groan in agita on. “Rose.” We’re ne.

Lily grabs the phone out of my hand and interjects, “You’re at a party. Shouldn’t you be having fun?”

“I’m at the Cobalt’s business party,” Rose reminds her. “Having fun at these events is never on the agenda.” She pauses. “The food isn’t terrible.” She hesitates like she has more to say. Maybe she wasn’t calling to nag us like a worried parent.

Now I feel like an asshole.

“What is it?” Lily asks, sensing the same thing.

I rest my palms on the counter, on either side of Lily. I’m s ll a head taller than her, and she stares up at me while she waits for her sister to reply.

I watch her chest collapse, desire blanke ng her face. I just want to fuck my best friend. Hurry up, Rose.

“Connor booked the suite tonight,” Rose whispers, as though to keep the people around her from hearing. “I found out when we arrived.”

I run my hands up Lily’s thighs, her jeans so underneath my palms. I step closer so my cock is right against that spot, the one I know is already soaked. Christ. I begin to harden, just ready to push completely inside of her. We fucked twice already tonight—but this me is killing me more than the others.

I just want to hear Lily cry out.

Her lips part in a heavy breath.

“Lily?” Rose snaps, ice returning to her voice.

I remove my hands so she can talk to her sister, but I can’t back up. I lick my lips and rest my palms on the cabinet beside her head, leaning into her.

“What’s…so bad about that?” Lily asks. She forces her gaze to the ceiling so she can focus. I press my lips to her neck, lightly and then deeply. A noise catches in her throat just in me, so so her sister can’t hear.

Lily’s hand ghtens on my waist, and when I look up at her, she mouths, do you want to get caught?

No.

Rose and Ryke—they won’t understand. All they’ll see is a list of rules we’ve been given and tally o how many we’ve broken. Nothing else will ma er.

I hear Rose inhale loudly. “Yesterday, I made this grand statement about how I’m ready to have sex with him—just to shut him up—and now I think he’s calling out my blu .”

I can solve this problem. I glance at the phone in Lily’s hand. “Just tell Connor that you changed your mind. He won’t care.”

“He’ll win,” Rose says like that’s the stupidest idea.

“So what?”

Rose growls. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Lily mouths, I got this.

Great. Because I don’t speak Rose’s language.

Lily clears her throat. “Put him in a really uncomfortable posi on and then he’ll freak out and you both will be o the hook.”

I can prac cally feel Rose shaking her head. “Trust me, he’s not uncomfortable in any posi on.”

“How about just castra ng him?” I chime in. “You threaten my balls every day.”

“That’s because they’re hanging around my sister,” Rose snaps. I hate that she makes a good point. “And you have full right to threaten my eggs or fallopian tubes. Have at them.”

I grimace. “I’m not going anywhere near your vagina.”

Rose says distantly, “I’m just trying to be fair.”

Lily thinks hard, her brows pinched in this adorable way. “I don’t know, Rose. You may lose this one. I mean…you can’t go home with another guy…” Lily lets that terrible op on dri in the air.

And her sister stays completely silent on the ma er.

“Rose!” both Lily and I yell.

“I wouldn’t cheat on him,” Rose says. “That’s disgus ng. He’s just staring at me right now.” Her voice lowers. “I think he can read my expression.”

“Your bitch face?”

“No,” Rose drags out the word. “…I’m scared.”

I regret my words as soon as I hear her honesty. It doesn’t come o en, especially not around me. “Rose,” I say, trying to so en my edged voice. “Sex is a big deal, and you shouldn’t sleep with Connor if you’re afraid.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. It feels weird.

“Well…I don’t like it.”

I glare at the phone. “Good because it’s not happening again.”

“Thanks,” she says. I can’t tell if it’s for the advice or for my last statement. “He’s walking over here…I’ll call you later ton—”

“Tomorrow,” I force.

“Right,” she says distractedly. And then she hangs up rst.

I slide Lily’s ip phone down the counter, to the co ee pot, away from us. “No more sisterly or brotherly interrup ons.” I announce this as a fucking rule. Ryke has called three mes tonight to ask how I’m doing. I spent last New Year’s Eve in rehab. It’s not like I’m going to grab a bo le of champagne because the day of the year tells me to.

“Do you remember before we were together?” Lily asks as I unbu on her jeans.

I freeze. “You mean when I was piss drunk?”

“No, I mean…yes, but that’s not what I meant.” Her skin blotches with dark red patches.

I lace my hand with hers. “I’m listening.”

Her shoulders rise with con dence as she speaks. “You used to do this with me all the me,” she says. “Pin me in the kitchen, toy with me…” She smiles at the memories. “I liked it, even when we weren’t together. But this is rare now.” Her eyes dance around our bodies. “I just wondered if you’re afraid of teasing me.”

I li her chin so her gaze meets mine. “If I was afraid, I wouldn’t be doing it tonight.”

“But we’re going to have sex,” she says.

“Yeah?” I frown, not understanding what she’s ge ng at.

“So you won’t irt with me unless we can have sex. Because you’re afraid of me.”

I glare. “Can you stop saying that? I’m not fucking scared of you, Lil.”

“Then you’re afraid of enabling me.”

I shake my head. All I’ve wanted is to be with her completely, fully, without compromise. But maybe there’s a signal in my brain that says: Don’t touch her like that. Don’t make her hornier than she is. Don’t tempt her. Not unless she can have something more a erwards. “Can you handle me?” I ask lowly.

“I want to start trying,” she says, her chest eleva ng at the proclama on. “I want to have everything we had without all the bad.”

I’ve never been more in love with her. “I’m going to trust you to stop on your own then.”

She nods repeatedly. “I will. I can. I know I can.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles. I kiss her deeply, her body pulling towards mine with the embrace, and I pin our clasped hand to the cupboard above her head.

As she catches her breath, my forehead rests against hers. So ly, I whisper, “I believe in you, love.” This is a goal I’ve never heard her make. It’s one I’ll entertain and help her reach.

But tonight—I want to t perfectly against her with no room for hesita on or fears. I slip the jeans o her legs and step out of mine.

She slides her hands underneath my shirt with a heady gaze. “Can I take your shirt o ?”

“You don’t have to ask,” I say.

Her lips curve up, and she hungrily raises the fabric over my head. Her

ngers comb through my brown hair. “Closer,” she whispers.

I grab her legs and yank her towards me, my cock between her legs. The fabric of our underwear is in the way. She holds onto my bare shoulders like I’ve already started driving into her. This is the only me that I’m glad she bites her nails. Otherwise, she would draw blood.

She clings to me so ghtly that I have no chance of removing her V-neck shirt unless I ask. I’d rather keep her in my arms, like this, than have her completely naked.

Lily rests her cheek on my chest and whispers, “Closer.”

I suck on the base of her neck, and she whimpers and gasps at once. Her ass barely rests on the counter. I support most of her weight with my body. If someone wanted to tear us apart, they’d have to claw her o of me.

I grin as I kiss her lips. Heat gathers between us. The nerve-spli ng sensa ons start before I even push in.

“Closer,” is all she can say.

Almost.

I take o my boxer-briefs and slip o her pan es. Her need is apparent when I distance our bodies. She squirms like she hates the empty air.

Her arms hook underneath mine, and her beau ful green eyes remain

xed on my amber irises. Overwhelmed. Both of us.

“Closer,” she breathes.

And I grab my sha and slowly push my erec on deep inside of her. God. My eyes almost roll back in my head.

She cries out, “Lo!”

I rest our clasped hand back on the cupboard. “Lil…” I thrust against her, so deep that a groan scratches my throat. With our bodies melded together, she stares straight into me. I rock, barely able to separate from her.

She kisses me rst, and my smile disappears to carnal desire. I hold the back of her head, my tongue par ng her lips and sliding against hers. Lily’s con dence, during sex, has been lost for a while. It’s nice to see it start to return.

I thrust hard again, and she breaks away to let out a sharp moan. No one else is listening in. When lming begins for the reality show—our audience will mul ply unless we’re careful. In this moment, it doesn’t ma er though.

We just let go.

A er we both reach that peak, I keep her in my arms and comb her damp hair out of her face. The television plays a New Year’s Eve concert in the living room, the faint sounds now audible in our silence.

“I love you,” I tell her. Even though I say those words o en a er we have sex, she s ll glows when it reaches her ears.

“I love you too.”

Just as I go to kiss her again, the front door creaks open.

Rose. It has to be Rose. She came home to avoid spending the night in the suite with Connor. It’s a stupid decision, considering he now lives in this house with us. They even share a bedroom. What’s so di erent about a hotel?

Lily’s eyes widen with panic. “Oh my God.”

I’m standing in the kitchen. Buck naked.

While Lily has a shirt on, her pan es are li ered on the oor with the rest of our clothes. I li her o the counter and set her feet on the ground.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. I have the shi est luck in the whole universe. How many guys wake up one day and are told they’re bastards? How many have their biological mom basically say: hey, I didn’t want you when you were born nor do I care about you now?

I’ve been stampeded so many mes already; I might as well brace myself before it happens again.

I zip my pants and turn to Lily and bu on her jeans. “We’re fucked,” she hisses.

“Not yet,” I whisper. “Fix your hair.”

She rapidly tries to a en the messy strands.

The door slams closed, and as I bend down to grab my black crew-neck, I spot leather boots and long legs in the archway between the living room and the kitchen. My eyes travel up to her green army jacket and blonde hair.

“Daisy,” I say hesitantly. I breathe out, just glad it’s not Rose.

Her green eyes—swollen and reddened—dart between Lily and me. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to…” She rotates and heads back into the living room.

“Wait,” I say, rushing a er Daisy with Lily by my side. I hurriedly put on my shirt and realize that Daisy’s aimed for the door.

“What happened?” Lily asks, fear pitching her voice.

“Daisy, don’t leave,” I add, sprin ng ahead and blocking her exit. I lean my back against the door and keep a hand on the knob.

Then I scan her features. But her insanely long hair drapes along her cheeks and brows, masking her expression. Her ngers brush beneath her eyes—wiping tears?

My face twists. “Are you crying?”

“I’m ne,” she breathes. “I’m just going to go. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

My jaw locks. She knows we had sex.

Great.

And she’s going to tell my brother—because he prods for informa on, and they’re strangely friends.

Lily rests her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “What happened? I thought you were spending the night at Cleo’s house?”

My brows furrow. “Cleo?” I try to wrack my brain for an image of Daisy’s friend. I think she’s blonde too. That’s all I picture.

“She’s my best friend,” Daisy mu ers and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I just…the party was lame. I thought I could come back here and watch the countdown on GBA with you and then crash in the guest room.”

“Then that’s what we’re going to do. You’re staying here,” Lily says adamantly, guiding Daisy over to the couch. They sit down together. I can’t remember a me where Lily was this protec ve. Maybe when I was in rehab, she grew closer to Daisy, but I never saw this side of their rela onship. Lily, being the big sister like Rose, except without all the ice.

“We can watch Adventures in Babysi ng. That’s one of your favorite movies, right?” Lily o ers.

Daisy smiles. “You remembered?”

Lily nods. “Yeah. You told me…” She closes one eye as she recalls the date. I could kiss her again. “…last week, I think.”

“That sounds good.” Daisy takes o her jacket, se ling in.

“Here, I’ll hang that up,” I tell her, grabbing the green fabric.

“Thanks.” She gives me a weak smile and scoots closer to Lily. Both girls have their feet on the couch. “So…” Daisy pauses.

Don’t say it. Don’t bring it up. I liked thinking that she’d pretend it never happened. I open the hallway closet and take out an empty hanger.

“…I thought you weren’t supposed to have sex in the kitchen or the living room—not that I’m judging. I just always thought it was a rule.” I hear the curiosity in her voice. S ll, I’ve never had the urge to discuss my sex life with my girlfriend’s sixteen-year-old sister. In fact, it’s as uncomfortable as it sounds.

“Uhhh…” Lily draws out the word. “Lo?” She peeks her head over the couch, wai ng for me to return to handle this one. Her cheeks are tomato-red.

I hang up Daisy’s jacket, shut the closet and take a seat on Rose’s Queen Anne chair. “It’s not a rule so much as a sugges on.” I smile a bi er smile. Then I collect the remote, about to increase the volume to GBA’s Ballin’ New Year’s Eve.

“Are you sure Ryke and Rose know that it’s a sugges on and not a rule?” Daisy asks us. “I think they’d be really upset…” She licks her dried lips. “I mean…it’s not considered relapsing, right?”

Guilt washes over Lily’s face.

I go cold.

“No,” I interject quickly. We’re at a good fucking place. She’s con dent, not compulsive. I won’t let their fears fuck with her progress. “Not that I really want to explain this to you,” I add and then grimace. Way to be a prick, Loren. “Lily’s therapist says that we can move things forward, depending on how well she’s doing.”

This is completely true, but even if Rose and Ryke had a sit down with Dr. Banning, they’d probably s ll believe that Lily needs more structure and limita ons. Outwardly, she seems aloof and anxious, but most of that is because of the media.

It’s complicated.

Daisy wears a pained expression. “And you’re doing well?” she asks her sister.

Lily nods, but she has very li le evidence to prove this, considering she hides under desks, dodges cameras, and isolates herself from people.

“Hey, Daisy?” I rub the back of my neck, my eyes narrowed. “Can you never tell my brother what you saw tonight? In fact, let’s just keep this between us.”

Lily says, “Please. We’ve been trying not to adver se our sex life as much.”

Daisy’s not stupid.

The gears click in her head—thinking we’re on a dangerous road. We aren’t. Not yet, at least.

Lily clasps Daisy’s hand and then says, “Do you want ice cream? Rose stocked up on double fudge for you.”

“I can’t…I have a photo shoot next week.”

“Oh,” Lily says, more remorse lling her eyes.

“No, it’s cool.” Daisy hugs her sister back, and just like that, their rela onship has been reversed. Daisy cheering up Lily, something that only makes Lily feel like shit. “Let’s just watch the movie a er the countdown. Who needs ice cream, right?”

Then the door swings open again.

And both Lily and I look to Daisy. Her loyalty to us is about to be tested.

Thrive

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 04 MONTHS

DECEMBER

A SIX-FOOT-THREE BROODING—MOSTLY irritated—guy bounds through the door. “I fucking hate people,” he states, barely glancing at Lo on the chair. I have to crane my neck over the couch to catch sight of Ryke, as does Daisy.

He saunters into the kitchen with an angry stride, disappearing through the archway.

“Not that I don’t love you here,” Lo shouts from across the room, “but you said that you were spending New Year’s at that frat guy’s kiddie pool.”

Ryke returns from the kitchen with a bag of pre-popped popcorn and a water bo le. “It was his hot tub, and he graduated in May, same as me.”

Ryke must have had a not-so fun me at his friend’s party. His stormy expression says it all. The irony: Lo and I were having a pre y good night, all things considered. Usually we’re on the other side of the fence.

“Can you imagine a hot tub full of frat guys?” Daisy asks me, nudging my elbow with hers, a smile playing at her lips. It sounds like one of my fantasies. Before Loren Hale. But then again, Ryke would not be a par cipant in my fantasy hot tub.

I don’t answer her, but I do, however, catch Ryke’s muscles exing at the sound of Daisy’s voice, surprised by her presence here.

Ryke steps around the couch to face us, and he gives Daisy a long once-over that seems friendly enough. “What are you doing here?”

“Lo asked you the same thing,” she de ects.

Ryke sinks down in the open chair, his harsh gaze s ll on Daisy. “You want to know why I le my friend’s fucking party?”

“Yeah,” Daisy says.

“I was sick of people asking me how Lily is in bed.”

Whaaa…My eyes pop out. I despise those rumors. “I hope you told them I never—”

“I told them to fuck o ,” Ryke says before I get worked up. “They’re fucking assholes.”

“We’re assholes,” Lo says. “They’re dipshits.”

“Are you really schooling me on curse words, li le brother?”

Lo lets out a short laugh and grips the armrests too ghtly, like he longs to stand up and grab a drink. “No. I don’t run as fast as you. I’m not as smart as you. And I de nitely don’t curse as well as you.” I hear what’s beneath his words: My life is pre y much a losing ba le. Cold washes over me. I glance at Ryke—his arms have chill bumps. “I’m just saying,” Lo

nishes, “that you’re an asshole.”

On ins nct, I leave my seat beside Daisy, and I nestle on Lo’s lap, hugging his tense body. His shoulders begin to loosen as soon as my legs tangle with his, and his large hands slip around my waist, pulling me even closer to his chest.

Ryke drinks a swig of water and wipes his mouth with his arm. “At least we have something in common then.”

Lo lets out a laugh, his scowl completely vanished. He’s happy that Ryke didn’t convince him of things he knows are true. Lo spent his childhood running away from people. Ryke competed in track and eld. I don’t think either of them believes that Lo will gain the strength to beat his brother in a race.

I do though.

Lo has the will to speed right past the person who li ed him to his feet. I think, some mes, we have more faith in each other than we do in ourselves.

Daisy shi s on the couch for the third or fourth me, restless. She starts braiding the fringe of a purple throw blanket. “Are you spending the night too?” she asks Ryke.

“If it’s okay with my brother.” Ryke turns his head towards Lo. “I can drive back to Philly if it’s not.”

“It’s almost midnight, so you should stay,” Lo says. “We can crack open a bo le of champagne, toast to the New Year, then switch to whiskey.” He tops it o with that now literally famous dry smile. Celebrity Crush even ranked his bi er half-smiles from best to worst. My favorite was the one during Halloween (ranked only #6). I thought he’d want to stay at home for his twenty-second birthday, especially since last year’s Halloween was so apocalyp c, but he drove everyone to a haunted house in northern Pennsylvania.

He was a pirate.

A sarcas c pirate.

A girl dressed as Pippi Longstocking took the picture of his half-smile when he wasn’t looking and posted it to Instagram. I almost wish I could thank her.

It’s one of my favorite photos of him—maybe also because he’s carrying me on his back. I was a mouse. I thought it’d be ironic since I’ve been so quiet, but Ryke thought I was a rat so…maybe it wasn’t the best costume choice.

“That’s fucking hilarious,” Ryke says to Lo, unamused.

“Haven’t you heard? I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since rehab,” Lo says. “I’m cured.” I don’t think he even believes that.

“And Connor isn’t a genius. Lily’s not a sex addict. Daisy’s not a supermodel. And I have fucking fantas c college buddies who ask me about anything other than three-ways.”

“I don’t know what world you’re living in,” Lo banters, “but that one sounds fucking weird.”

Ryke laughs, his eyes lightening.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Lo professes, his voice lled with sincerity.

“Just the night,” Ryke says. “I love you and Lily, but I just can’t be around Connor for that long.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to withstand Rose for long either, but it’s going on ten months, and she hasn’t even killed me yet.” His arms fall to my legs, li ing me higher on his lap so our chests touch. It just happened out of the blue.

Flir ng should be full of fearless advances like this.

Somewhere in our meline together, fear has snuck in and invaded our peace. Hopefully that’ll change for good.

“Why don’t you like Connor?” Daisy asks Ryke, tearing my a en on away from Loren Hale.

“He’s just annoying.”

I think we all know there’s more to the story.

“He’s cool,” Lo says easily. “I’m annoying, and somehow you like me more?”

“You’re not that fucking annoying.” He runs his hand through his hair, not explaining why Connor gets on his nerves so much.

“Is that it?” Lo wonders with pinched brows.

Ryke shakes his head. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he says, “You let everyone see every part of you, and Connor o ers a very small por on of himself. I don’t like watching you stand vulnerable in front of someone who wears more armor than you can ever have. It’s not fair, and it’s a fucking shi y thing for Connor to do to you.”

Lo lets his words sink in, and my stomach ips at the idea that Connor may hurt Lo. I never even considered it. Not once.

“I don’t mind it as much as you,” Lo tells his brother, though his forehead creases like Ryke has planted a seed. He’s never thought of it like that before. Neither have I.

“And I don’t fucking understand why that is.”

“You said that he wears armor, and I’m what—naked? I don’t think he’ll turn around and stab me…so I’m happy with our friendship.” Lo pauses and rubs his lips in contempla on, and he leaves it at that.

With the silence, I steal the remote from Lo and increase the volume of the New Year’s broadcast. “We’re here in Times Square…” the host announces cheerfully.

“Hey,” Ryke says, pel ng popcorn at Daisy. A kernel hits her square in the eyeball. He doesn’t apologize. “What are you doing at your sister’s house?”

Daisy picks the popcorn out of her hair and crosses her legs. “I just decided to crash here.”

“It’s more than that,” Lo says, exchanging a concerned look with Ryke. As someone who’s been on the receiving end of their united brotherly force, it’s very hard not to succumb to their demands.

Daisy has no chance.

And while I should be all Girl Power, Team Calloway—I care about my sister too much to blindly side with her. I just hope that she won’t use the only ammuni on she has against us. Lo and I had sex in the kitchen. That’s de nitely something she can ing at Ryke to take the heat o her situa on.

It scares me, but her wellbeing means more than sheltering our lie.

Daisy shakes her head. “I’m okay.”

“You were crying,” Lo says.

“What?” Ryke’s dark frown casts a shadow over the room.

“It was just prep school people being rude, not my close friends,” Daisy says vaguely. “The crying part was an accident…sorry.”

Ryke’s face contorts in confusion and agita on. He throws a handful of popcorn at her. I stretch across Lo to reach his brother’s chair and snatch the bag from his hands. He barely even no ces that I’ve taken his snack.

“Are you seriously fucking apologizing for crying?” he growls.

“I guess so.”

Ryke shakes his head repeatedly while I munch on the popcorn and stare between them, my head whipping from side to side.

Lo digs his hand in the bag to eat some too.

“Don’t,” Ryke says.

“You didn’t cry about your friends,” Daisy states.

“I stormed in here cursing. You’re allowed to show some human emo on, Dais. I did.”

Daisy shi s again like she can’t get comfortable. She smashes a pillow on her lap, and I hold my breath, expec ng her to distract Ryke right about now with our issues. She says, “Is it okay if we don’t talk about it?”

I exhale.

Ryke’s muscles constrict. He clearly doesn’t want to drop it. Daisy kicks o her boots, a li le more dgety than I’ve last seen her. She eyes the door. I imagine my fearless sister speeding down the dark roads on her motorcycle.

Death comes next.

“Daisy,” I say in warning.

“You’re not leaving,” Lo tells her.

I nod in agreement. “We all want you here.”

“I saw ice cream in the fridge,” Ryke says as he stands. “I can make you a bowl.”

“I have a photo shoot—”

“Run with me tomorrow morning.”

Okaaayy…that sounded more like a proposi on for a date, but everything about Ryke is kind of sexual. The way he stands, the way he moves. I bet he thinks about sex just as o en as me too.

“Sounds like a date,” Daisy says exactly what I was thinking. I can’t tell if she’s hoping it is. She’s sixteen. He’s twenty-three. She can have a crush on him, but it can’t progress further than that.

I rest my palms on Lo’s chest, his muscles hard as a rock, too rigid right now.

Ryke tenses. “It’s not, Calloway. I run with Lo all the me, and we’re just brothers.”

“So I’m like your sister then?” she asks.

Good ques on, I think, shoveling more popcorn in my mouth.

His face darkens. “No.”

“Then what am I?”

“My fucking friend.” His eyebrows rise. “Any more ques ons?”

She smiles weakly. “That’s it.”

“I’m going to get you a bowl of ice cream,” he says. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip and he rounds the corner. When he disappears, both Lo and I glance back at Daisy who has moved on to twis ng the bu on in the pillow.

“Thanks,” Lo whispers to her, “for not ra ng us out.”

“Even though you ra ed me out,” she nishes. She’s too smart for us.

His eyes narrow. “That’s di erent.”

“I hope it is,” she whispers back.

“It is,” he says adamantly. “You’re doing the right thing.”

She nods, and then Ryke returns with a bowl of double fudge ice cream. He places it in her hands and then brushes the popcorn o the cushion before si ng next to her.

Lo kisses my cheek, tearing my gaze o them and onto him. I like this view be er.

I smile. “Do you think Rose is swiping her V-card tonight?”

“Most de nitely.”

We all stay quiet as we watch a few bands perform in Times Square. I rest my head on Lo’s shoulder, and thirty minutes must past before noises escalate…from outside.

“He was not ir ng with me. Your de ni on is wrong.”

That is one-hundred percent Rose’s erce voice.

“What the hell?” Lo says. He nds the remote on my lap and mutes the television.

On cue, the door breezes open.

Dressed in an expensive tux, Connor holds open the door while Rose stomps ahead in ve-inch winter boo es, a black cocktail dress, and white fur coat. “To irt,” Connor recites, “to behave in a way that shows sexual a rac on. You can take my de ni on or we can consult Merriam-Webster, though mine is more accurate.”

I whisper under my breath to Lo, “I think Rose is s ll a virgin.”

“Good call.”

“I’m so good at picking up signs,” Rose retorts, s ll in a verbal ba le with Connor. “I know when someone is ir ng with me, Richard.”

He shuts the door, hardly upset by whatever happened. He wears only amusement in his deep blue eyes the longer Rose hu s and pu s like a wolf ready to blow down a pig’s house. And then he speaks in uent French, so e ortlessly that the words sound like golden honey o his tongue.

She replies back in angry French.

It sounds violent.

They face each other like they’re dueling. “All they need are some wands,” I whisper to Lo.

“I’ll never understand Ravenclaws,” he tells me. Connor and Rose would belong to the smartest house in the wizarding world. No ques on. Before the sor ng hat even touched their heads, it’d scream Ravenclaw!

“Luna Lovegood is pre y cool, and she’s from Ravenclaw,” I say as Rose arches her back and steps nearer.

Connor laughs at something she said in French, his million-dollar grin too bright to contain.

Lo says, “Only because Luna Lovegood likes the other houses just as much as her own.”

I look between Rose and Connor. Even though they’re so smart, they spend so much me in our realm of being.

They’re my favorite Ravenclaws that ever were.

“Connor doesn’t believe in magic,” Lo reminds me.

“I think Rose could convince him.”

“Maybe.” Lo raises his voice so they can hear him. “Shouldn’t you both be at a hotel right now?” He doesn’t add having sex but the idea is silently stated. At least…to me it is.

Rose whips her head to us, just registering our presence. “The party was horrible.”

“The party was boring. There’s a di erence,” Connor says easily. He takes note of his surroundings, scanning us on the chair and then Ryke and Daisy on the couch.

Rose spots our li le sister just as quickly and walks around the couch to approach, Connor by her side. “What are you two doing here?”

“Both of our par es fucking sucked,” Ryke answers. And I realize how quickly he was able to move a spotlight o of Daisy. Exactly what she would want.

Lo holds up his hands. “I’m confused. Was the party in your hotel room?” Lo asks like he’s the only one thinking logically. “Otherwise, you could have le the party without coming here.” He gives Connor a look like what the fuck happened?

“We’re no longer welcome at that par cular hotel…for eternity. Those were the manager’s exact words.” Connor loosens his bow e. “I don’t blame him for thinking we’re immortal. In some preclassic civiliza ons, I’d be considered a god.”

Rose’s yellow-green eyes drill holes into him. “Congratula ons, you are o cially the cockiest human being on planet Earth.” That’d be Iron Man. But I hold my tongue.

“That’s Iron Man,” Lo says. I literally rise like I’m oa ng. I kiss him on the lips, so suddenly that I think he’s caught o guard too.

Rose holds her hand at him like stay out of it.

Lo doesn’t care. His eyes x on me with ques oning and longing. Like he wants to kiss me again. But I stop. I show him I can.

I don’t want sex.

Just a kiss.

Like back in Cancun. When I was on the road to truly recovering. I’m going to be there again. I can feel it.

Today is a very good day.

His lips rise, saying everything that needs to be said.

He’s proud of me.

I glance back to my older sister. Connor s ll grins at her and speaks French. Damn. I ip open my cell and try to log into a translator, but he talks too quickly for me to type the words. This is when I wish I had my nicer, newer phone with app capabili es that translates by sound, no manual typing involved.

I consider snatching Lo’s phone, but one of my hands is s ll in the popcorn bag.

Thankfully, Rose uses English. “The manger was exaggera ng.”

“Clearly,” Connor says, “but it doesn’t change the fact that we were kicked out tonight.”

The gears in my brain start spinning. My eyes widen in realiza on, and I cough on a popcorn kernel. Lo pats my back. He hands me what used to be Ryke’s water. It’s grossly become communal. Survival ins nct triggers and I drink it anyway.

Rose. She found a way to dodge Connor’s suite without chea ng on him or pu ng him in an uncomfortable posi on. She got the hotel to kick them out.

She’s ballsy and slightly nuts. Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell him that she didn’t want to have sex?

“I broke one bo le of champagne in the lobby,” Rose states. “The punishment was hardly warranted.”

“You called the manager an oversized twat,” Connor says with an arched brow. “And what you did was hardly an accident.”

“So?” she retorts defensively.

“If you wanted to go home, darling, all you had to do was say so.”

Ha! I suggested as much to her, didn’t I? I hope I did. I can’t remember that phone conversa on that much. Lo’s hands and lips were traveling to dangerous places during it.

“Then you would’ve won,” she says.

He gives her a look. “I already did.”

“But—”

“Sex isn’t a prize to me. I don’t know how many mes I have to tell you for you to believe it.”

They start speaking in French again, and Lo scoots me closer to his chest, res ng his arm around my collar. I pick up the remote and unmute the television, which hangs above the replace mantel.

“Thirty seconds,” the host counts down.

I think back to last New Year’s where Lo was in rehab, where I spent most of the night with Daisy, where we sat in Ryke’s car—stuck in tra c— as the clock struck midnight.

“Twenty seconds.”

Now I’m in Loren Hale’s arms.

He’s sober.

I’m in recovery.

I wasn’t sure if we’d ever be at this place. I glance at Daisy who balances her spoon on her nose with a bright smile—the rst genuine looking one I’ve seen from her tonight. Ryke stares at her for a long moment before messing her hair with his hand. The spoon falls to her lap.

Connor and Rose stand only inches apart by the co ee table, his hands on her hips. Her chest rises and falls faster than his, but his gaze is glued to Rose, entrapped, like she’s beyond gorgeous—like he could take her right there without hesita on.

I turn back to Lo and rest my knees on either side of his waist, straddling him.

“Ten seconds,” the host declares.

“I missed you last year,” Lo murmurs, his hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin.

I kiss his sharp jaw, and before I pull away, he kisses the outside of my lips, nerves singing at the touch. Yes.

“Remember how when we were li le?” I whisper. “You’d chase me around before midnight.”

“Eight!” the television blares. “Seven!”

Lo’s ngers comb into my hair as he holds my face. “You always ran out of breath.”

I smile. “I wanted you to catch me.”

His amber eyes dance along my features, like he’s engraining every detail. “I thought so.”

“Five!”

“Catch me,” I whisper.

“Four!”

“I already have,” he murmurs.

Our bodies press together, as though they’ve never dri ed apart, not for three months or years or any moment’s me.

His lips touch mine, his hand gripping my hair. I pull even closer to his body, the kiss magne zing me to him.

“One!”

In this moment, everything else is just background to our story.

It takes a few minutes to actually hear the cheers from the television, the people in Times Square celebra ng with confe and more kisses.

Connor and Rose are full-on making out. Like passionate, powerful kisses that would occur a er pent-up emo ons from a ght. He’s in control, one hand on her ass, their lips never disconnec ng as he walks her backwards. Her shoulders hit the wall.

“Whoa,” I say. Before Lo covers my eyes, I shi my gaze. I don’t want to be aroused by that. How embarrassing—on my part.

“Do you guys realize what this means?” Daisy asks, drawing my a en on to the couch.

At rst I think she’s talking about Connor and Rose. To me, it means that their nerd love is in full orbit. Where it should be.

But her eyes aren’t on them. She’s staring at the TV screen, and Ryke has his hand on the couch behind her head. They don’t look like they shared a New Year’s kiss, but I wonder if they thought about it. Even for a second.

“What?” I ask.

She stares o in thought, neither excited nor scared. “In a few days, we’re going to be lmed.” She pauses. “For a reality show.”

Oh.

Shit.

PART TWO

PART TWO

“That’s how I survived. Time and me again. That’s my secret. I survived

because I willed it to be … How did I survive apocalyp c re? I simply

refused to feel the ames.”

– EMMA FROST, DARK REIGN: THE CABAL VOL 1 #1

Thrive

CHAPTER TWELVE

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

“SO YOU HAVE to lm everything we do?” I ask the short, pudgy camera guy. Bre can’t be any older than twenty- ve. When Lily explained the reality show, my rst thought was fuck no. Why would we voluntarily par cipate in that kind of torture? And then she started stammering about how this might relieve the guilt and how people might see us as a real couple.

She only sold me when she said, “I’m doing this, Lo. With or without you. So if it’s without you, then we’re not going to be seeing each other all that much for six months.”

Six months without her.

It’s never happened before.

I try to wrack my brain for a memory that doesn’t consist of Lily for that period of me, and I can’t come up with a single one. The only future I want is the one that ends with her.

If it means par cipa ng in a reality show, I can do it. Easy. All the drama will be supplied by us.

I stand outside of our bedroom door. In the Princeton house. Staring down a Canon Rebel and the stubby cameraman behind it. Lily clings to the door frame, shielded by my body.

Exactly where I want her in this moment.

Bre remains quiet, but my glare must mo vate him because he nally says, “I can’t talk to you. You know…” He clears his throat. “The fourth wall.”

I raise my brows. Interes ng. “So you’re just going to stand there silently—no ma er what?”

He nods.

Maybe I overes mated how terrible this was going to be. No probing ques ons? No heckling from the cameramen? We can do whatever we want.

Huh.

I glance back at Lil, who wears a black romper and gold necklace. An ou it chosen by Rose. Apparently the girls have to wear clothes from the Calloway Couture line—for promo on.

Thankfully she doesn’t look like Rose.

She s ll has that delicate round face, the gangly arms and legs. She’s adorable. In every sense of the word. And she’s all mine to take care of.

I take a step closer to Lily and rest my hand above her head. When I stare down at her, she parts her lips in ques oning like are you ir ng with me?

I force back a smile. Yes, I’m ir ng with you, Lil. I shove any concerns towards the back of my head. She can handle this without having sex. She has to. Because we can’t fuck every me I touch her this way.

With one hand over her head, my other falls to the hem of her romper. I slip my nger in the belt loop on her hip and pause.

Her breath hitches, her gaze i ng from my lips back to my eyes. And then her neck ushes. She glances at the goddamn camera.

Thing is—we have more free reign where PDA is concerned now that the cameras follow us. Instead of Rose thinking we’re having more sex, we just blame it on hamming it up for the viewers at home. Rose rarely scolds me now.

As long as Lily can handle it, we should be ne.

I clutch her waist, s ll hooked to her belt loop. My ngers dip below her hipbone, the romper’s fabric a lot so er than the jeans she normally wears.

Her back arches against the door frame, and her arms y around my neck. I lean in to kiss her, and she tries to meet me halfway. I pull back a li le and she catches air.

Her mouth falls, breathless. “No fair.”

“Didn’t you hear?” My lips curve upward. “I’m the biggest tease in Princeton.” I pause, smiling wider. “And Philadelphia.”

She lightly punches my arm.

My brows rise. “Is that a love tap?”

She hits me harder.

I rub my arm and mock wince. “Are you working out, Lil?”

She raises her arm and exes her “muscle” which is a very ny bulge. “Ryke gave me a ve-pound weight for my birthday, remember? He said I needed to bulk up.”

I remember. “That was a shi y birthday present.”

“Yours was be er,” she declares with a warm smile. It was a belated present, on purpose. During Comic-Con, I managed to get some of the ar sts to sign Lily’s favorite X-Men issues. It helped that we split up when she went to the director’s panel. I returned to the conven on oor just for their signatures.

The nearby camera lls the short silence, groaning as it zooms in on us. Lily freezes again.

Bre asks, “What did you get for Lily?”

I glare. So much for not asking ques ons. “You told us that we can’t talk to you, but you can talk to us?” How the hell does this work?

“Yeah,” he says evasively.

I grimace and scowl at the same me.

Bre takes one step back. “You don’t have to answer,” he mu ers under his breath.

He’s probably scared that I’m going to slap the camera out of his hands. Something Ryke has done to paparazzi before and been severely ned for it.

I stare right at Bre and ask, “You want to know how I sa ate a sex addict?” When I shi my gaze to Lily, she already holds her breath. I lt her chin up, forcing her eyes to mine.

And then I kiss her. Deeply. Passionately. Like we were born to share oxygen. I part her lips with my tongue, tas ng her, and then focus on her bo om lip. I suck gently, and her leg ins nc vely rises up to my hip, silently craving for me to t between her thighs. I almost harden, especially as she clings ghter to me, blanketed with strong, feverish need.

She wears her insa ability with every breached moan and grind against me. I feed into it with every coarse, rough movement that slams against her thin body. It’s a hunger that only compulsives and addicts know well. It’s why people look away when we kiss. The raw desire grips my cock, my lungs, my mind. My lips dri to her neck, and my hand perilously rides the edge between her waist and her abdomen.

When we kiss full-force again, my head just explodes and I lose sense of my surroundings. I don’t care about anyone else but Lily. I raise her hand above her head, laced with mine like I’ve done so many mes before.

She moans into a kiss, but we don’t stop.

I’m going to love Lily how I want to love her.

Overwhelmingly, uncompromisingly.

Look away if you have to.

My one hand on her hip falls between her legs, and I squeeze. She tries to s e the cry, but it escapes her lips. I grin into our next kiss while she

moves her hands up to my chest and shoves me back.

Her eyes it to the camera.

That may have been the rst me she’s rejected me—since we’ve been an o cial couple that is.

Jesus, maybe this reality show will actually do some good.

My lips s ng. She breathes heavily.

I follow her gaze, and my grin stretches.

Bre ’s cheeks are ushed red, and he makes a concerted e ort to avoid our eyes.

Lily said she missed the teasing. I didn’t realize how much I did too, un l now.

A thin sheen of sweat is gathered on my forehead. “You hot and bothered, Bre ?” I ask him.

He makes an uncomfortable noise that sounds like a grunt. “You can’t…”

“Talk to you? Right.” I ash a half-smile.

Six months of a reality show—we can do this. Easy.

Lily’s cell chimes. She takes her ip phone out of her pocket, and her mood clouds. “Rose is asking about cake tas ng.”

I try to suppress a cringe, but I’m sure it passes through my features. I’m not Connor Cobalt. I can’t hide what I’m feeling. “What do you want at the wedding?” Our wedding. Now I really grimace. Shit. I train myself not to glance back at the cameras.

We’re being married for appearance’s sake, even though it’ll be real. I love every single part of Lily, but I hate that this day is being dictated by her mom and my dad.

I’d rather just elope.

But that’s not part of the “image rehabilita on” plan.

“I don’t really care,” she says in a small voice.

I shrug. “Me either. Just tell her to choose.”

Lily nods, her shoulders drooped.

When she nishes tex ng back, I pull her close and wrap her in my arms. I don’t say anything. I just hold her.

Six months un l our wedding—yeah, shit just got real.

Thrive

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

IN JUST THREE DAYS, our world has warped. Whether this is a terrible change or a catastrophic one is to be seen.

“Have you checked out the bathrooms?” Daisy asks me, plopping on my bed.

“Not yet,” I say. I’m on another mission.

Empty cardboard boxes li er the oorboards of my new bedroom in a Philadelphia townhouse. I s ll can’t nd my canopy net. Either the movers took it for themselves or Lo tossed it when we were unpacking. I didn’t realize I’d grown an a achment to the thing un l I lost it. Pretending to be in a jungle safari at night just won’t be the same.

I cau ously eye the door in case Bre or Ben or Savannah (the camera trio) dart into my new room to lm us.

I need to be incognito for a few minutes. I hoist my body on the dresser that the movers just heaved in here. With a broom in hand, I do a piss poor job, but I manage to stand on two feet.

Daisy collects her long blonde hair into a high, messy bun. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for bugs,” I say. The electrical, peeping Tom kind. In the hallways, living room, kitchen and other common areas, ra ers make up the ceiling, rigged with so many wires and cameras. Rose said we had to move to the townhouse for be er sound, but the contracts say we can’t be

lmed in the bedrooms.

I’m not taking any chances.

The world already thinks I’m a sexual nutcase. I don’t want them to have footage of private acts between Lo and me. With the end of my broom, I poke at the wires and a suspicious looking black box. I stand on the ps of my toes.

Oh my God.

There’s so much space between the ra ers that a whole body could crawl on top of them, army-man style, and then they can hang down like Mission Impossible and lm us while we’re sleeping.

“What’s wrong?”

I spin at Lo’s voice and the dresser wobbles underneath my bare feet. While I concentrate on not falling, Lo scoops me up in his arms and sets me safe on the oor.

“Are you cleaning?” Lo asks with raised brows. “Because I have never seen you pick up a broom.”

“She was checking for bugs,” Daisy tells him, legs crossed on the end of my bed.

Lo frowns. “I thought Rose already hired an exterminator.” The townhouse is old, which made Rose upset more than anyone else. She likes clean areas, not musty, moldy creaks and crannies lled with spider webs and the occasional daddy-long-leg. I don’t mind it so much. Maybe because I’m so focused on the cameras.

“Not those kind of bugs.” I point at the black box. “That’s a camera.”

His frown morphs into a scowl and then he follows my nger. “That looks like a ba ery.”

Really? My neck heats. “I just wanted to check.” Now I’m a compulsive, paranoid freak. “Crawlers may be up there, too.”

I realize that made absolutely no sense to anyone outside my brain.

Professor Xavier would have understood it.

Lo sets his hand on my waist and draws me to his body. “I’ll check the ra ers with Ryke.”

“Crawlers are people,” I say lamely.

He just smiles. “I gured.”

I gasp. “You can read my mind now? Your superpower nally kicked in.”

“No,” he breathes, staring down at me. “I just know you too well.”

Oh. “Will you let me know when you get your superpower?”

He nods, and his ngers slide across the base of my neck. I love that he touches me so much more. “I have to warn you though, I may not have one.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “Some mes I like the idea of just being mortal with you.”

Lo leans in to kiss me, but a loud cla er tears us apart. Bre tripped over a lamp on the ground, landing on his knees.

“Nice catch,” Lo says dryly. Bre didn’t drop his camera, but it’s strapped to his chest with some weird device that looks like a bulletproof vest, only plas c. I think Connor called it a steadicam.

Ryke passes by our room and stops when he no ces Bre . He helps him to his feet and then enters. “Have you checked out the bathrooms?”

Daisy asked the same thing. They must know something that we don’t.

“Not yet,” Lo says, not as concerned as me now.

Daisy rises o my bed, and the four of us stand in more awkward silence.

We’re all living together.

This has never ever happened.

It’s new and weird and something the produc on company wanted so badly. It’s a big reason why we moved to this townhouse. The six months

lming Princesses of Philly just got a lot more interes ng.

Daisy breaks the quiet. “I’ve never lived with a guy before,” she exclaims, just pu ng it out there with more con dence than I would have. She’ll be in the same house as Lo, Connor, and Ryke. I’ve spent most of my

me living with Lo, so it’s not so di erent for me.

Ryke and Lo share a look that I can’t decipher, and then Ryke says, “It should be similar to what you’re used to.”

“I doubt that.”

“Why?” he asks.

“I’m not used to six-foot-two guys sleeping two oors above me.” Daisy chose the basement, of all rooms. She said something about coming home late from modeling shoots and not wan ng to wake up everyone. The stairs are creaky. And she’s nice. That combo led her to the darkest room.

I’d rather have her up here.

It smelled like cat pee in the basement, and since Sadie, Connor’s feline, is now living with us too—she could have been the culprit and already chosen her rst target.

Sadie is a born criminal.

“I’m six-foot-three,” Ryke corrects with hardened brows.

Daisy shrugs. “Same thing.”

“No,” Ryke says a single word.

Daisy tries not to smile. “I’ve also never shared a shower with a guy before.”

Lo and I frown together. He beats me to the ques on. “Don’t you have your own shower downstairs?”

Daisy’s smile fades, and she exchanges a look with Ryke. Okay, everyone is sharing looks without me. I feel like the kid picked last for dodge ball.

“You don’t have a shower?” I say, trying to nd the answer here.

“Um, maybe you both should come check out the bathrooms,” Daisy says, having to step over a box and squeeze past Bre to reach the door.

We follow her.

“Is the shower gross?” I wonder.

Lo clutches my hand as we walk. “Maybe they found mold or something.”

Good theory. “Maybe a turtle had babies in the bathtub.”

Lo considers this and then says, “And the shower is de nitely full of snakes.”

“Monkeys,” I add. “There’s a monkey nest in the cabinet.” I picture Jumanji, a full out zoo inside the bathroom with ivy and deadly plants. Killer bees come next.

“Monkeys don’t have nests,” Lo says. Where do monkeys live then?

“You two are fucking weird,” Ryke says. Our imagina ons are vast. It doesn’t help that we love comic books more than reality.

Ryke and Daisy abruptly stop in the middle of the long narrow hallway. I almost bump into Ryke’s chest, and when I take a step back, I knock into Bre ’s camera.

“Sorry,” I mu er. I clearly don’t do well in con ned spaces.

Voices from the main level below trickle up the staircase.

“Traveling somewhere, Sco ?” Rose snaps. “Hopefully to California where you’re actually needed.” Rose sounds more cked o than usual.

“Who’s Sco ?” Daisy asks in a whisper.

I think she’s the only one without this info. Someone should have told her sooner.

“The producer,” Ryke says, “for the show.”

I consider edging closer to the staircase to see if I can catch a glimpse of him. Rose has spent plenty of nights complaining about the misogynis c producer. She has to deal with him though, for the sake of the reality show.

My feet stay glued to the oorboards, too anxious about the bathrooms to move just yet.

“I’m needed here,” Sco says. “It just takes people me to realize what’s good for them.”

Ryke crosses his arms over his chest, listening intently with Daisy and Lo. They’re all eavesdropping while I internally freak about the bathrooms.

I don’t actually think monkeys are in our cabinets.

I don’t discount the turtles though.

Lo whispers, “I already hate this guy.”

“Same,” Ryke says. “If he fucks with one of the girls—”

“It’s not going to happen,” Lo cuts him o . “Connor already ran a background check on him.”

“I don’t have as much faith in Connor as you do,” Ryke whispers.

Lo actually pats his brother’s back and says, “Then have faith in me.” He’s known Daisy, Rose, and me almost all his life. Lo wouldn’t let Sco harass us without a major ght.

Ryke lets out a tense breath and just nods.

I count ve doors along this hallway. Daisy has her hand on a brass knob to one of them. Is that the hall bathroom then?

I catch the tail end of Sco ’s comment. “…showing your ts would increase the ra ngs.”

My jaw unhinges. What?!

“So would shoving my foot up your ass,” Rose refutes.

Lo clenches his teeth.

“I’m going down there,” Ryke whispers.

“No,” Daisy says, grabbing Ryke by the forearm. She stops him before he heads down the hallway. “We need to show Lo and Lily the bathrooms. And Rose won’t appreciate you coming to her defense.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Rose can handle anything.”

Ryke reluctantly redirects his course of ac on, and he rests his hand on the small of Daisy’s back, silently telling her to open the bathroom door.

This is it.

The old wood creaks as she opens it wide. We all slowly walk in, and my mouth just drops further. No turtles or monkeys or even mold.

The two showers are huge. Too large, in fact. As if they’re made for communal purposes. Oh my God. What if they’re made speci cally for orgies? What if produc on believes that I’ll hook up with mul ple people in them?

“What is this?” Lo asks with a deep glare.

“We’re all sharing one bathroom,” Ryke announces, leaning against one of the four sinks.

“Rose would have said something…” I trail o .

Daisy says, “I don’t think Rose knew before today.”

“Lily…” Lo places a hand on my shoulder, concern cloaking his gorgeous face. I must look petri ed. At least, that’s exactly how I feel.

My privacy has been slowly stripped for months, and now it’s almost all disappeared.

“I don’t like this,” I mu er under my breath.

My immediate thought isn’t damn, we can’t fuck in the shower. It’s my third or fourth thought, which (I think) is progress. My rst thought is how embarrassing it’ll be if Ryke or Connor walks in on me showering. Oh no… what if a cameraman sees me naked? What if he catches it on lm?

“They can’t lm in the bathrooms. It’s in the contract,” Lo reminds me.

“Are you sure you can’t read my mind?” I whisper, the humor lost in my voice.

He hugs me close. There is nowhere safer than in Loren Hale’s arms.

“Do you jack o in the shower?” Daisy asks casually to Ryke, a smile to her voice. It instantly causes Lo to tense. She’s become almost too open around his brother.

Ryke doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t have to jack o , sweetheart.”

“Wow, the pent up frustra on must hurt then,” she says with sarcasm. “No wonder you’re so moody.”

“Fucking hilarious.” And then he undoes her bun, sliding her hairband on his wrist and messing her long locks with a rough hand. Her blonde strands s ck out wildly. When he nishes touching her, a small smile peeks on the corner of her lips.

“Out of curiosity,” she says, not xing her unkempt hair, “where do you pick up girls?”

Ryke glances at his brother, just recognizing that we’re in the room with him. I know what it feels like to be so magne zed by someone that you forget about your surroundings.

My lips part at a sudden realiza on.

Ryke may be actually falling for my sister.

A girl who turns seventeen next month.

It’s a feeling, but one I sense deep in my bones like I did Connor and Rose.

I can’t tell Lo about my suspicions. Nothing good will come of that.

“You’re always curious,” Ryke answers vaguely. S ll, he has trouble censoring himself. “I meet people at the gym or really anywhere I fucking go out.”

“Have you dated a fan?” she asks.

Lo interjects, “Yeah he has. Twice so far. And they were his age.”

Ryke stares at the ground, not saying a word. I can’t read his dark expression either.

“Cool,” Daisy says, nodding a couple mes. “I bet they were sweet. I’ve considered da ng a fan, but most of mine are too old.”

“Like twenty-three?” Lo wonders, his voice bi ng. I wince. That’s Ryke’s age.

“No, more like thirty- ve.”

I’m pre y sure Daisy is picking up all the hints. She’s just dismissing them with ease.

I hold onto Lo’s arm. He’s at such a good place with Ryke. I don’t want that to change because of my li le sister. Maybe, one day, it’ll have to, but not now.

“You should consider da ng someone around your age, Dais,” Ryke says pointblank.

“I have,” she says, heading towards the door. “It hasn’t been anything special.” With this, she leaves. My eyes meet the camera lens that remains pointed at me. Jeez.

“She likes you way too much,” Lo says.

“Look, I’m trying to shut her down without hur ng her fucking feelings,” Ryke retorts. “But she’s my friend. I’m not going to push her away completely.”

“Here’s a p: maybe you shouldn’t talk about jacking o in front of her.” Lo crosses his arms. “Is it that fucking hard?”

“For me, it is.”

Lo stares at him for a long minute. I an cipate something really nasty. He says, “I bet your teachers hated you in high school.” That wasn’t so bad.

Ryke lets out a laugh. “I got deten on almost every day for saying fuck. So yeah, they weren’t too fond of me.”

I peek past Lo’s shoulder to scru nize the showers again. “They’re huge.”

“It’ll be okay,” Lo reassures me, his hands lowering to my hips.

I hope so, but everything the produc on company has setup feels like drama bait.

We’re bound to feed into it.

Thrive

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS.” I ip through a ve page script in disbelief. As soon as we arrived at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Sco handed me what I thought was a museum pamphlet. Turns out produc on wants Lily to talk and act a certain way. Most of which is crude.

Lily leans over my arm and gasps as she reads a line. “I can’t say that.”

I skim the paper and see where she’s concerned.

Lily stares into Loren’s eyes with longing and carnal desire.

Lily: I remember how you tasted last night. I can’t wait to taste you

again.

“Jesus Christ,” I curse. “This is like a bad porno.” I scan the small crowd, hoping it won’t grow into a larger one later today. Quickly, I nd Sco speaking in hushed tones to Bre , who has a camera a ached to his chest.

I take Lily’s hand and lead her over to the twenty-eight-year-old dipshit. As soon as we approach, he turns and I chuck his ve-page script at his body. It hits his chest with barely a sound and then ops to the oor. “We’re not reading o a script,” I snap.

Sco Van Wright has found every way to grate on me in the shortest amount of me. First o —he lives with us. No one fucking invited him to permanently crash upstairs. Secondly, I can’t stand to look at his dirty blond hair, his smug face, and those douchebag tailored pants. He’s like the an -Connor. An arrogant prick who one-ups you and screams about it at the top of his lungs.

Thirdly (and most importantly) he antagonizes my girlfriend.

Yesterday he tried to corner Lily to ask her ques ons about her old hookups. We’re not even a month in with the cameras. That’s not fucking okay. I’m trying to stay posi ve, but shit like this is why I opt for a quiet bar and a bo le of Macallan.

“Then tell your girlfriend to speak up,” Sco replies smoothly, not even breaking a sweat. “She’s so quiet that she literally disappears in the background. We’re making a show around a sex addict, not a wall ower.”

“I’m standing right here,” Lily says before I can chew him out. “You can talk to me.”

His eyes never waver from mine. I could seriously deck him in the face, but I rarely ght with my sts.

“While the cameras are rolling, you both need to stop ac ng like I’m the producer of the show,” he says, completely ignoring the issue.

“Right,” I say. “You’re Rose’s ex-boyfriend.” It’s nothing but a lie. Just scripted drama. Sco ’s crea ng a fake love triangle between himself, Connor and Rose. His mo ves are all over the place.

“Exactly,” he says, unbu oning one bu on on his white shirt. So what— viewers can see his muscles? This guy—

“Do you think Rose and Connor will make it today?” Sco smiles, like we’re friends. Lily ins nc vely checks the camera. The red light is on.

Sco already knows the answer to his ques on. GBA, the network airing Princesses of Philly, wanted more scenes with Lily and me, alone, so they planned a trip to the museum with just us. And apparently Sco . I have a strong suspicion he’s just tagging along to piss us o .

My eyes narrow in contempt, and Lily squeezes my hand to help calm me.

Sco grins wider. “How’s sobriety, Loren? Are you doing okay?”

My blood boils, my glare intensifying. “No, I’m not doing great. I just feel sorry for you, man. For six months, you’re going to watch us drive our expensive cars, a end our exclusive par es, and y our private jets. And when it’s all over, you’ll go home to your one-bedroom apartment in LA and realize that you’ll never have our lifestyle. You’ll never amount to anything other than a second-rate producer of a garbage reality show.” I touch my chest. “That just makes me feel so fucking sad for you.”

Sco ’s smile and pretenses vanish in an instant. “You’re a dick.”

“You’re a slimy prick,” I refute. “Don’t ever ask me about my sobriety again.”

Lily follows me as I storm o towards one of the exhibits in the back, as far away from Sco as I can get.

“He’s trying to provoke us,” she reminds me.

A pressure weighs on my chest. My le hand shakes. “Well it’s working,” I say under my breath. This rabid hate simmers underneath my skin. I just want a sip of alcohol. Anything. God, drinking is so much be er than dealing with this bullshit.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes tracing my features quickly.

I take a deep breath. I love you too. The words s ck to my throat. Instead of speaking, I rest an arm along her back and hug her to my side.

She brings her hand up to her mouth, about to bite her ngernails. But she drops it before she gets that far.

“I can’t stand here, Lil, and not ght back. He’s making you nervous and he’s pissing me o . I can’t take that crap, not from anybody.”

A sliver of silence stretches where my lie resides. I take shit from my dad all the me, but Lily chooses not to announce this fact. Thankfully.

“I just don’t want you to come o as a villain when the show starts airing in February,” she explains, “because you’re not.”

I’ve tried so hard not to be that guy—the one that terrorizes other people. The one that no one else but Lily can possibly understand. It’s hard to walk away from this ins nct. It’s self-preserva on. If I don’t a ack rst, I’m going to be slaughtered by gut-wrenching pain.

I’m saving myself.

“Lo?” Lily says, her voice pitching in worry.

I turn to Lily and hold her delicate face between my hands. I no ce Bre lming us from a distance. “We’re going to be ourselves for this show,” I say. “Fuck anyone who doesn’t like us. It doesn’t ma er.”

She nods con dently and gives me an encouraging smile. I drop my hands. Her eyes it around the museum. “Out of all the places produc on could pick, they chose something more up Rose’s alley.”

“Yeah, I know.” Pain ngs and sculptures sit against white walls. People wander around with headsets on, quiet like we’re in a library. “How boring is this going to be?”

“Maybe we can just go around and try to guess the names of the pain ngs. Ohhh.” She points to a portrait of a woman in an oversized Renaissance gown holding a cat. “Here’s one. I think it’s called Lady with a Cat.”

My lips rise. “Very crea ve.”

“It’s my best guess.”

I approach the pain ng nearest us and read the small plaque underneath the frame. Jesus. “You were close. Lady in the Blue Dress.”

“Really?” She beams.

I’m about to reply when I spot Sco Van Wright sauntering towards us. Why can’t he just stay the fuck away?

“I have to call my brother,” I tell her in a low voice. The moment I say it, the moment I know it’s the best plan I’ve had all day. That weight on my chest starts to lessen.

She whispers, “Are you okay?”

I don’t want her to worry about my addic on. “We need someone to distract Sco from us.” Or else I’m going to do something I regret.

Lily’s face contorts in a mul tude of emo ons. She knows I’m not doing well, and I’d rather have him here. But she hates perpetua ng tabloid rumors about three-ways and chea ng.

“What about Rose or Daisy?” she asks.

“Rose is working in New York, and Daisy is at school right now.” I omit Poppy since she wanted nothing to do with the reality show. “I’d call them before Ryke if I could.” I add that, just for her. If I’m being honest, I’d prefer my brother over her sisters.

Lily opens her mouth to reply, but Sco steps closer. In hearing distance. He acts like he’s appraising the Lady in the Blue Dress. “I’m thoroughly surprised you two haven’t jumped on each other yet,” he says, his gaze pinned to the pain ng. “It might be a new record.”

“You don’t know us,” Lily combats.

“You’re a sex addict,” he says. “You want the short de ni on?” He licks his lips. “You like to ride dick.”

I fume, my teeth aching from gri ng them. Lily rests a hand on my chest. Her face is ushed, red patches do ng her neck and cheeks. I hate that he embarrassed her. I hate that he’s shaming her. More importantly, I hate that nothing I say does any fucking damage to him.

This is the point where I’d walk away and start fucking with his life.

I’d ruin him from the inside out.

His career. His money. I’d u lize the tools my father gave me to destroy a man. But I can’t.

I can’t do that this me.

We’re barely into the reality show. What’s the alterna ve though? Stand here and eat shit?

I can’t.

My muscles burn. Each inhale is like trying to breathe through black smoke.

“Look at me,” I sneer, so aggravated that Sco won’t tear his eyes o the pain ng. He’s pathe c.

Finally he turns his head, but I can see it’s becoming harder for him to keep up his self-sa s ed smile when he’s facing me.

“Stay out of my goddamn face.” These are my only words before I drag Lily to another side of the museum where an que furniture and silver

atware are on display. Sco stays behind for now.

I unpocket my phone and start tex ng Ryke.

Stop climbing fake rocks and come meet us at the museum.

“If he’s this mean to us,” Lily mu ers, “I wonder what he’s like to Rose and Connor.” Her eyebrows knot together in confusion. “Do you think he says dirty things about her?” Concern plagues her face. I’m not used to Lily being protec ve of Rose.

“She can take care of herself,” I remind her. “And if she can’t, she has Connor.”

“Yeah,” Lily says so ly, “you’re right.”

My phone vibrates in my palm. I read the text quickly.

I’m not invited. – Ryke

Really? That hasn’t stopped him before.

Do I need to extend you a wri en invita on? Get your ass over here.

I hand Lily my phone and then say, “Want a ride around this place?”

She nods with a smile.

I bend down and then li her onto my back, my arms underneath her legs. I can prac cally feel the heat of the camera on us. Paparazzi had to stay outdoors. But the Princesses of Philly cameras just go wherever we do.

I expected it, but it’s di erent when it actually becomes your reality.

I carry Lily in a piggy-back over towards a pain ng of a watering can.

“It’s criminal, you know,” she says, her voice faraway in thought. “We didn’t even have communal showers our freshman year of college.” She pauses. “Do you think this is cosmic payback?”

“They’re not bad.” I don’t want her to be afraid of them. I’ve called her sex therapist to talk about the issue, and she said that I need to nd a way to mo vate Lily.

I feel like I’ve tried everything. I repeat the same words over and over, and she’s s ll scared shitless that someone will lm us and put it online. She said she has a “bad feeling” about them.

“That’s a nice watering can,” she says, dodging the issue.

“You’re not going to take a shower, are you?”

“That’s a strong phrase,” she breathes. “I’m going to forgo the shower for a bit and opt for an alterna ve choice.”

I gently set her on her feet.

Her shoulders curve towards her thin body. She’s disappointed.

But this is serious. “A bath?” I ask, hoping but disbelieving she’d choose that op on.

She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, the strands already becoming greasy. “More like a washcloth bathing experience.”

I don’t blink. “Not for six months.” It’s not a ques on.

“People in the wilderness do it.”

“People in the wilderness jump into a river when they smell. Are you going to jump into a river?”

She pales. “No.”

“Then take a shower.”

“Why are you being the hygiene police all of a sudden?” she ques ons, her eyes welling up with tears. My stomach drops. “You never used to care if I skipped for a week.”

I hate that I have to be a hardass. I lower my voice so Bre ’s lming equipment can’t pick up the sound. “This is six months, and we live with other people now. You smelling like sex is not the way to go, Lil. They may think we’re fucking more than usual and then they’ll be all over us.” Her pleading, watery eyes try to sway me. “Skip tomorrow, ne, but I’m going to have to start being careful when I come on you.”

She frowns. “You haven’t done that in…”

“A long me, I know.” Crazy sex has been out of the picture for a while.

She glances at her boobs like she’s visualizing the event.

“Lily,” I snap. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just thinking…” She turns red all over. “…about your plans.”

I hug her close and kiss her lips lightly.

“Your phone just buzzed,” she tells me as we part. She hands me the cell, and I open the text.

Is everything okay? – Ryke

I don’t know. I type the text and think of more to add, but so many phrases pop in my head. I realize I’m just overwhelmed.

Not all days are easy.

Most of them make no fucking sense. A good handful tears me apart, limb from limb. The best days are the ones I try to remember, but some mes, even those are swallowed by the bad.

I send the text as it is. Three words.

I’m on my way. – Ryke

I’m about to pocket my phone, but it vibrates again.

Don’t drink. – Ryke

He’s told me that a million mes before, but it’s this one me that a ects me the most. Don’t drink. I won’t turn this bad day into a terrible one. For me.

But really, for her.

Fear of failing Lily—it mo vates me in ways that no one can understand.

Thrive

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

LO and I walk around the museum in deadened silence, a camera shadowing us. Ryke arrived about ten minutes ago and pulled Sco outside while Savannah, a pre y redheaded girl, lms them. When we passed the glass windows, I saw Ryke shou ng at the producer, but his sts weren’t raised.

The whole day, I sensed how distraught Lo was becoming. He has a lot to worry about. Halway Comics, Superheroes & Scones, his father breathing down his neck, alcohol…and me.

It hurts to realize that I can’t take away his pain today and that in a small way, I may be contribu ng to it.

We sit on a bench, a mammoth pain ng hung on the wall before us. A white angel ba les a dark-haired man in red silk; the man is most likely on the losing end.

Angels always win.

I don’t know its true meaning. Or the context. But the longer I stare at the image, the sadder I become.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

I feel him turn to look at me. “For what?” He edges closer, his thigh against mine. I stare right into those amber swirls, seeing his agony, his love and his vice. All at once.

“You have so much going on,” I say so ly. “I don’t want you to constantly worry about me too.”

He frowns. “I’ll always worry about you,” he tells me. “It’s impossible not to.”

“In a future,” I whisper, “I’d like to think that you just know wherever I am, I’m smiling…and content.” No agonizing. No stress over my wellbeing. “It’s just whether that future is ours or someone else’s.” I focus on the bench again.

He presses his ngers underneath my chin, li ing my gaze once more. “You remember when we were in tenth grade and we decided to ditch comics in Earth-616 for all the alternate universes and reali es?”

I nod. “It was fun for a few months.” We read some of the most bizarre comics during that me, and months later, we preferred the main con nuity in Marvel comics. Earth-616.

“And you know what we decided at the end of it all?” Lo asks me.

“That Magneto and Rogue should never be allowed to date—in any universe.”

His lips rise. “Yeah, and that alternate universes usually have the worst endings with the unhappiest conclusions.” His warm hand slides to my cheek, and his eyes bore into me, intense and unyielding. “But we’re in Earth-616, love. We’re going to have our happy ending. It just may take us awhile to get there.”

My chest li s at his rare op mism, s rring something powerful inside my heart.

It lls me with so, so much hope.

Thrive

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

I CHECK rat traps that Connor, Ryke and I set in the crawl space. Daisy found two dead ones in her room, not surprising since we saw droppings on the basement stairs when we rst arrived.

“Your cat isn’t doing her job,” I tell Connor while I squat by the small door, a trash bag in hand. Ryke has already crawled through, and I wait for him to return with hopefully a dead rat or two.

“She’s already killed three of them,” Connor defends his pet. He leans his arm against the wall, staring down at me. “Anymore and I’d ques on her domes ca on.”

“I hate to break it to you, Connor,” I say, “but your cat is feral.” In private, Lily calls her the orange beast. I mean, Sadie scratched the hell out of Rose when she tried to put a collar on her. I thought Rose was impenetrable to almost everything.

“I found Sadie, you know.” He cups a mug of steaming co ee. “She was in the rain outside my boarding school. The mother was dead. So were the three other ki ens.”

I don’t know how many other people he’s told this to. “I never pegged you as the nurturing type.”

“I’m not,” he says honestly. “It wasn’t like she tugged at my heart in that moment.” Of course not. “I just knew I had the power to save her life, so I did.”

That was fairly conceited, but I try to dig around that. “And now that she’s older and angrier?”

“I raised her exactly how I wanted,” Connor says. “She doesn’t need me to survive anymore. Though she loves me most.”

Huh. I scru nize the way he rests against the wall, red. His body isn’t s and straight like usual. Dark rings lie beneath his eyes. “You look like

shit,” I say. Seriously. I’ve never seen him so worn down before.

He sips his co ee. “I’m a grad student trying to take over a mul -billion dollar company. If I didn’t look like shit, I’d be on drugs.”

I forgot that he’s been trying to take the reins of Cobalt Inc. I almost men on Sco , but even the thought of him irritates every nerve in my body.

I look back through the crawl space just as Ryke hits his head on one of the pipes. “Fuck me,” he curses.

“Fornica ng with the rats already?” Connor asks with a grin.

“Fuck you, Cobalt.” He’s on his stomach, using his forearms and legs to army-crawl through the small area. “The shortest one of us should have crawled through here.”

That was directed at me. “If I knew you were going to bitch, I would have done it myself, and I’m only one inch shorter than you, bro.”

Ryke bangs his forehead this me. He makes an animalis c noise. “I’m s ll six fucking three.”

I watch him move at a snail’s pace. “Besides being a giant, what’s taking you so long? You set the trap. You should know where it is.”

“It must have carried the trap with it.”

“Just use your nose,” Connor says. “Dogs have the best sense of smell.”

I actually laugh.

“Fuck o ,” Ryke retorts.

I’m pre y sure that Ryke can handle Connor’s digs. Even when Connor pisses him o , it seems like the comments never really eat at him. Ryke is the strongest person I’ve ever met. Stronger than me.

It’s why Connor taunts Ryke and praises me.

I don’t know if Ryke realizes it or if Connor recognizes how well I understand his rela onship with me. But I see how Connor spends his me trying to build me up—so I believe that I’m just as worthy as my brother.

I’m not. I won’t ever be as good as him, but it’s nice to have a friend try to remind me of it.

Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts tex ng. Less than a minute later, he asks, “Is Lily having more sex than usual?”

I s en. Keeping a secret from a guy ten mes more intelligent than me

is hard. But not impossible. I spent three years pretending to be in a rela onship with Lily. I’ve got this.

“She’s not having it, but she wants it.” I st the black trash bag and rise, my legs aching in this posi on. “This whole fucking reality show puts her on edge.” It’s the truth, but we’re fucking a lot more than people would like. Most of the me, we screw in her car, away from cameras and thin walls where people can overhear. I layer on everything he’ll expect, “And she medicates her anxiety with sex, which means I’m not ge ng laid for the next week, and she only gets my ngers.”

I nd the nearest camera, hanging on a ceiling ra er, and I wave my

ngers. And wink, just for further e ect. Maybe it’ll distract Connor.

The cameramen are on lunch break, so xed cameras are the only thing shoo ng us.

“So you’re not having sex?” he asks.

I can’t read the tone of his voice at all. I fucking hope I’m selling this well enough.

The longer he stares at me, the more I realize I may have overes mated my ability to lie to him.

Heat gathers on my forehead. I rub the back of my neck as I weigh the op ons in my head. I have to par ally come clean. “No, I mean…” Just go with it. “We fucked the other day. She was a li le compulsive a erwards, so I want her to abstain for three or four days and see how she does with that.”

She wasn’t that compulsive. She stopped herself from con nuing past her limits, and there’s absolutely no goddamn way we’re abstaining. But I think it’ll appease him to hear a plan.

Not too long ago, I even asked him to keep an eye on us—to make sure we were keeping to a twenty-four-hour schedule. Sex every night, nowhere in between.

“And you used condoms?” he asks.

My lips part in shock, not expec ng this. My stomach ips, and I slam my st on the wall. “Ryke, hurry the fuck up.” I don’t want to share all the details of my sex life. Connor barely shares his. I need to keep something private, for fuck’s sake.

“Lo,” he says.

I spin to him, my eyes ashing hot. “This conversa on is over.”

“I’m trying to imagine what Lily will look like pregnant.” His tone is conversa onal, not spiteful. “Would her en re body swell or just her belly?”

My chest rises with irrita on and with something so dark. I’m sel sh. But I don’t ever want to be that kind of sel sh—to have a kid, knowing he or she could be plagued with this lifelong struggle.

“At least I’m ge ng laid,” I say, my voice like razors that physically pains me. But I keep going. “How long have you been fucking your hand?”

“My hand and I go way back,” he says easily, a warm smile a ached.

My muscles loosen. It’s a mystery why people keep me as a friend.

“I’m not your brother.” Connor nods to the crawl space. Ryke is s ll searching for the traps. “I’m not going to curse you out for doing something stupid. But I am da ng your girlfriend’s older sister, so my own balls are on the line here.”

Right. I nod. “The repercussions of ge ng into bed with a she-devil.”

“And I fucking like her,” he says, “so make my life easier and use a condom.”

I completely relax. I can imagine how annoying it must be having Rose in his ear all day. I contemplate whether or not Lily and I have been safe. I think we have. She’s on birth control. I mu er, “I’ll be be er about it.”

Ryke crashes into more pipes, cursing and then shou ng back, “There’s so much fucking mold down here. No one should be fucking living on this

oor un l we hire someone to clean it.”

I read in between the lines.

Daisy lives on the lowest level.

I saw the way he looked at her in the bathroom when we rst arrived at the townhouse. For so many reasons, I can barely stomach the possibility that he could like her more than just a friend.

I squat again and see Ryke heading to the door. “If this is your way of ge ng Daisy to room with you, you can forget it. I’m just barely tolera ng your friendship.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryke retorts. “There were rats in her bedroom, she’s living near mold, and your rst assump on is that I want to fuck her?”

I glower, trying not to picture that. “I didn’t say anything about fucking her.”

Ryke groans. “I’ll fucking room with Sco ,” he shouts. “Daisy can take my room. Or I’ll stay down here and switch with her. I don’t give a shit. None of the girls should be around this.”

“And what if she hears Lily and me fucking through the walls? There’s a reason she’s on the lowest level.” It’s hard to believe that Daisy is the one protec ng our secret—a girl who jumps o cli s, rides a motorcycle and runs head rst into life.

I wish I could keep her ten-thousand feet from all of this. The basement is safe from Sco . From most of the leering cameras. From us.

Maybe she can grow up normal, have a real, peaceful adolescence that none of us really had.

Ryke gives me one of the darkest looks I’ve seen in a while.

I frown and crane my neck over my shoulder, looking at Connor for his opinion.

“You can’t censor a girl who’s nearly seventeen, especially not a high fashion model,” he says to me. “She’s heard and seen everything you have, if not more.” So it’s too late for her then.

She’s all grown up.

“I’ll call someone to look at the crawl space,” Connor con nues, “but un l it happens, Rose would want her sister somewhere clean.”

I let out a breath. “Ryke, you’ll room with Sco ?”

“I said I would.”

“Fine. More eyes on that prick, the be er, right?” Especially if Daisy is moving upstairs.

Ryke mumbles a yes, and his arm thumps into a hanging piece of wood. “Fucking A,” he curses, reaching the door. I grab underneath his arms and help pull him through the small exit.

We both stand on our feet. He clutches the trap, a dead rat a ached, the tail nas ly caught in the silver metal.

Connor grins. “Have we found you a new profession?”

“At least I can get my hands dirty, princess.” He swings the rat trap in Connor’s face.

Connor remains completely stoic, his grin only spreading wider.

Ryke rolls his eyes and reaches for the trash bag.

“Wait,” I say, pu ng my hand on Ryke’s arm. My chest thrums, blackness s rring inside of me. “Maybe we can do something with this thing.” Sco needs more than just a few words to back o . He hasn’t stopped ge ng in my face, or Lily’s.

“No,” Ryke and Connor say in unison.

I narrow my eyes at them. “You didn’t even let me nish.”

“You want to use it against Sco ,” Connor says.

Haven’t they seen what he’s like? Aren’t they worried at all about what he could do to us, to the girls?

We have to stop him now.

“He’s the fucking producer,” Ryke explains o my anger. “You start a war with Sco and he could turn you into a psycho on the show. Just fucking relax.”

“He made Lily bawl!” I scream. Don’t they get it? He shames Lily every

me he nears her. I hate Sco more than I’ve ever hated another person.

Because I did nothing to him. And he’s s ll coming at me. “I’m not going to sit here for six months and ignore all the shit he says. This is di erent than social media and gossip blogs. We’re living with this bastard.”

I breathe heavily and both guys stare at me like I’m the crazy one.

Because I’m the addict.

Because I think irra onally.

But I’m a person. I can feel.

And there’s only so much I can put up with before I begin to drown.

Thrive

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

I TUCK my shower caddy under my arm and use my free hand to keep the towel above my boobs. My wet ip ops slap against the led oor as I waddle to my bedroom. The only upside to this situa on: I’m not naked underneath my towel.

Lo and I devised a strategy for bathing in the communal showers.

Swim suits.

My one-piece keeps me covered and lessens the risk of ashing anyone who accidentally walks into the bathroom. The rst couple of mes, Lo showered with me. He even wore his swim trunks in solidarity.

But today, I wanted to take a step and be by myself. I fall into my codependent ways far too easily. Another item added to my Needs to Work On list.

I kick the bedroom door closed with my foot and set the shower caddy on my desk. When I plop down on the leather chair, it lets out a far ng noise from my wet bo om. My eyes bug and I check over my shoulder, making sure I’m alone.

No lurkers.

No ghosts (that I know of).

Good. I return to my laptop and log onto the internet. If I don’t check my calendar every day, I’ll forget about some random homework deadline —or worse—a quiz. The joys of online classes. The upside is that my internet privileges have been restored. Lo trusts me more, and I’m beginning to nd the same trust in myself. I need to navigate the internet without “stumbling” on porn.

Before I pop up my calendar, an alert pings.

**5 new ar cles featuring Lily+Calloway+sex**

This isn’t porn.

Just so we have that clear.

I’ve set my computer to track the ar cles that talk about me. It’s a li le obsessive, sure.

I scroll through a few of the ar cles, most featuring a varia on of the same headline. Lily Calloway to Star in Reality Show this February. Watch the promo video here!

I’ve seen it ten mes already, but it doesn’t stop me from clicking on the link.

The screen turns white and starts playing “ Animal” by Miike Snow. I don’t know what the produc on company was trying to say. We’re not all animals. Okay, I may be a sexual animal, and I think Ryke is a literal animal, but the others aren’t beasts.

We lmed the footage in a studio; all seven of us (Sco included) stand in front of a white backdrop. I waited for someone to hand me a script, but the director told us to act normal, that the video would be candid.

The promo begins by panning down the seven of us, and then it cuts to close-ups, star ng with Daisy on the end. She does a handstand, her white T-shirt bunches up at her neck and reveals her green lacy bra and bare stomach. She s cks out her tongue and smiles goo ly. A cap on pops up over her boobs.

Daredevil.

And then Ryke shoves her legs, and she crumples to the oor with a laugh. On his chest, the cap on scrolls: Jackass.

The rst me I saw the promo, it was like a hurricane tore through the house. No one an cipated being labeled. And it didn’t take long for me to deduce mine.

Lo and me are next in line. His arms hold me closely, our chests mashed together, and our lips devour each other in an intense kiss.

Even though it’s my eleventh me watching it, I s ll have to look away at this part. I never thought that watching him kiss me would turn me on. But it does. It s rs places that should not be s rred when he’s not around. I don’t trust myself that much now that I have access to the internet again.

My eyes it up to the computer.

The words Sex Addict and Alcoholic appear across our bodies.

And then Rose, Connor, and Sco ll the screen. Rose’s yellow-green eyes are prac cally radia ng heat, and her body is shi ed towards Connor. He stares at her like she invented the sun, a look I’ve seen a million mes when they have their epic nerd ba les. Connor leans over to whisper in her ear, and it sets her o , her cheeks concaving in anger.

She shoves his arm and he grins.

The word Smartass ashes on his body.

Then the screen pans to Sco , who looks down (very quickly) at Rose’s boobs. And then my sister gives Sco a quick glance. The edi ng makes it seem like they were a couple, or had some sort of rela onship. Sco lts his head and gives pre y good bedroom eyes.

When his cap on appears, it just makes me hate him more.

Hear hrob.

Seriously. He’s a douchebag. I nd it insul ng that out of all the guys, he gets the only decent label.

And nally the promo shows Rose, wedged in between Sco and Connor, further exploi ng the fake love triangle. Both guys stare down at her with longing and desire.

Her cap on pops up just as she looks directly at the screen.

Virgin.

Now everyone knows about her sexual status, but she didn’t much care about that. Rose isn’t ashamed of being a virgin. I think she’d shout it from the roo ops if she could—just to prove a point.

The promo ends with the Princesses of Philly logo and tle, and then the tagline ashes on the bo om.

Get inside the Calloway sisters this February.

Dirty. That was dirty, and I don’t have to be a sex addict to know it.

Plus, I got con rma on from Daisy that she thought it was a sexual innuendo too. So there’s that.

I scroll down and read some comments underneath the video.

Havana33: Are they going to show LiLo f*cking on this show? I feel

like it needs to be NC-17.

NoelMarch: +Havana33 No way. GBA would be sued big me. So

curious to see how crude it’s going to be tho.

JamesGGG: How old is the Daredevil? She’s hot as fuck.

James. Your GGG must stand for gross, gross, gross. I have to click out of the video and clear my head. It’s not his fault, I remind myself. Daisy isn’t his sister. He doesn’t know her. But it’s hard to convince myself that he isn’t some creep in his parent’s basement.

I log onto the last alert, an ar cle from Celebrity Crush. Just great. This magazine has been nothing but nasty to me.

The headline alone makes my stomach turn. Poll: Which Brother Should Lily Calloway Choose?

A poll? There’s a freakin’ poll now.

My disbelief and masochis c curiosity compels me to read Wendy Collins’ ar cle from the top.

Poll: Which Brother Should Lily Calloway Choose? Loren Hale or Ryke Meadows? By Wendy Collins

With only a few days le before the premiere of “Princesses of Philly”, we have one huge ques on le to be answered. Does Lily have more chemistry with Loren or Ryke? While we have strong suspicions that she’s been da ng both at the same me, one of these men is bound to have more re on-screen than the other.

Let’s break it down:

Loren Hale is her “long me” boyfriend, now ancé, and a recovering alcoholic. Just click through our photo reel of him and you’ll realize he has a panty-dropping body but it’s the face that seals the deal. “Gorgeous” just doesn’t even cut it. Oh, and he has a nicely-sized inheritance of a rumored $2 billion dollars, the direct heir to Hale Co. baby products.

Ryke Meadows is Loren’s half-brother, rou nely spo ed riding his Duca and climbing at a local Philadelphia rock wall. He’s notorious for his

ghts with the paparazzi, shoving cameras away from Lily and his brother.

Despite Lily’s “proposed” engagement to Loren, we believe Ryke brings a certain heat in bed that Lily craves.

Now remember, Lily is a “recovering” sex addict, so her needs have to be sa ated by her man (or men). Since we don’t know their…ahem, full packages, we’re going to base their chemistry between each other from recent candid photos.

I quickly scroll through the photos, none of which make me seem too chummy with Ryke. I’m literally kissing Loren in most of them. The poll resides just below the pictures and before I click into the results, I read a disclaimer at the bo om.

Note: While it’s my rm belief that Lily may very well be sleeping with both men, we know, in the very end, that she can only be with one. And while she may choose Loren for publicity, this poll is for you to choose who she should be with despite whatever happens.

I hate her.

I click into the results and my heart drops.

22% Loren Hale

78% Ryke Meadows

…no.

I do not accept this. How could she even have a poll? It’s rude. No one is polling to see if Kate Middleton would be a be er match with Prince Harry than Prince William. I realize that I may have just compared myself to royalty. Not my inten on.

I’m just freaking out.

A lot.

A lot, a lot.

Fuck it. Wendy Collins can’t just write biased ar cles and not have consequences. I pop up my email and start pounding the keys in frustra on. I’ve never wri en a nasty le er, but as long as it’s legible, I’m

ne with it.

Dear Ms. Collins,

I don’t know you personally, and you don’t know me personally,

which is why I’m wri ng to you today. This is your h or so ar cle

about me and the supposed Ryke/Loren rumors oa ng around the

media. These rumors are NOT TRUE. I would gladly appreciate you

focusing on another topic. Hell, I wouldn’t even care if you s ll have

to write about me (though, I would prefer you not). But just stop

claiming that I’m sleeping with my boyfriend’s brother.

Thank you,

Lily Calloway

I reread it a couple of mes, checking for grammar. It sounds more professional than I thought it would. And then I hit send.

As soon as my nger touches the bu on, and the email dashes o into cyberspace, my anxiety rockets up about ten levels.

Thrive

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 05 MONTHS

JANUARY

IT’S BEEN thirty minutes since I sent the email, and I haven’t heard a response. Not that I assumed Wendy Collins would reply. I just thought maybe she’d email back with an “okay, I understand, thanks for le ng me know. I won’t post anything else.” Wishful thinking.

I sit on the couch, my mind reeling. I know exactly what would calm me down and clear my thoughts. My ngers inch towards my shorts.

No.

I can’t.

I stand up quickly and pace back and forth. When I catch myself bi ng my nails, I drop my hand. Food. I can distract myself with food. The kitchen has been stocked with necessi es and junk food. Perfect.

I open a cabinet and nd a tub of icing in the top of the shelf. Standing on my ptoes, I have to reach up to grab it. All the while, my pelvis “accidentally” grinds against the edge of the counter. It was an accident.

I think.

I don’t know anything anymore.

I let out a strained breath and back away from the counter, taking the icing with me. A er I open the lid, I dip a spoon into the container and let out a relaxed breath.

The chair looms close to me and a sudden image bursts into my head. Me. Rubbing up against it. Just like the counter. Only maybe this would be be er. I step closer, changing my mind just as my crotch brushes against the wood. I suddenly back away, my face burning. I whip around. There aren’t any cameramen but there are s ll cameras in the ra ers. Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Maybe they won’t use that footage. I have to believe that.

And what’s worse, my anxiety is so high that I’m grinding on inanimate objects to relieve it. That’s a li le extreme…and weird, even for me.

I walk into the middle of the kitchen, my icing in hand.

What do I do? Nowhere is safe. If there are bad days for sex addicts, this is a very bad one for me. Should I call Lo? No. I don’t want to burden him with this. He’ll be overly concerned, and I need to gure it out myself.

The front door opens before I have a chance to make a proper decision. And the townhouse’s living room and kitchen are all in one visible space, nowhere to hide.

“What the fuck did you do?” Ryke growls.

Uh-oh. Did he see me grind on the chair? No. That’s impossible. He doesn’t have X-ray vision, and the world isn’t so unjust that it’d grant him a superpower before Lo or me.

“I’m…I don’t…” I end up stu ering.

“You wrote to Celebrity Crush,” he tells me, storming further into the kitchen.

“How do you know that?” I pull out my phone as soon as I say the words. But I remember I don’t have internet on it, so I slide it back in my shorts.

“They posted your email online.” He hands me his smart phone and my stomach does handstands and acroba cs worthy of gold medals.

Lily Calloway Responds to Celebrity Crush and Refers to Loren Hale as Her Boyfriend, Not Her Fiancé. Is the Marriage a Hoax?

Oh….no.

They have my original email underneath the tle with a few choice words from Wendy Collins. Mostly, her calling me drama c and sensi ve.

The sad thing: I am a li le drama c and a lot sensi ve.

I look back up at Ryke and his eyes have darkened considerably. “I had to do something. They had a poll, Ryke, a poll! And you freaking won it over Lo. That’s not okay!”

His eyebrows knot in confusion. I guess I’m not explaining it very well. “How many mes do I have to tell you to forget about the fucking rumors?” he snaps. “Not only have you given the media a reason to believe they’re true, but my dad is fuming.”

My heart stops. “What?” I whisper.

“Lo’s back in the car on the phone with him,” Ryke explains. That’s why he’s so upset. It’s not about the rumors, not really. It’s because I put Lo in a posi on where he had to confront their father, the man that pushes him to drink.

I’m fucking things up.

My body goes cold and chills rake my arms. A pressure sets on my chest, so heavy that breathing takes work.

The door swings open again, and I expect to see Lo gracing the room next. Instead, I hear my sister’s edged voice.

“I’m walking in the house right now, Mother,” Rose says, her hand ght on her cell. My stomach thrashes in another bea ng. My mom’s pissed too?

“Hold on, I’ll ask her.” Rose cups the speaker and meets my gaze. “Mom would like to know why you didn’t use the family publicist before making a statement.”

“That’s a good ques on,” I say so ly. My eyes trail away, looking for the answer, as if it’s on another side of the room.

Rose lets out a sigh and returns to her phone. “She didn’t have Cynthia’s number,” Rose says, which isn’t a complete lie. I have the number to Jonathan’s publicist, but not our family’s. Acquiring Cynthia’s number means communica ng with my mother, something I haven’t done for a while.

Bre walks backwards into the house, lming Connor as he passes through the open doorway. Did they all come home early for this? I know I screwed up, but I didn’t expect to ruin everyone’s Saturday.

Connor talks through his own phone. “Don’t worry about it, Greg. Rose and I will remind everyone how to address the media.”

I take out my cell and check for missed calls.

Zero.

Which is also how I rank to my parents. Or at least, they s ll don’t know how to talk to me. Not before the sex scandal and de nitely not a er. Though, I am a li le disappointed in my dad. I thought we were making progress. He’s called me a few mes to discuss Superheroes & Scones and school, but I suppose those were safe topics.

I take a couple steps back, aware that Bre ’s camera is whipping around the room, trying to determine who’s the most interes ng person right now.

He lands on Rose, who starts arguing into the phone.

I tune her out and turn around completely. There’s not much I can do here. No one will trust me to do damage control. There’s only one place I should go. To my bat cave! (my room). I need to check the internet for more alerts or wallow or both.

Someone grabs my arm, stopping me.

When I spin around, I sink into Lo’s amber eyes. Anger doesn’t invade them. Only concern. The kitchen, I realize now, is silent. All phone calls

nished and pocketed.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my throat swelling. “I didn’t mean for this to blow up.” Don’t cry. Channel your inner Rose. Tears are for babies and losers.

I wipe my eyes.

I suck at being Rose.

“It’s not you, Lil. Our parents are blowing this out of propor on,” Lo says, his hand sliding up my arm to my bare shoulder. I’m so scared of myself that I take a step back, away from his touch, no ma er how good it feels.

Wrinkles crease his forehead in more concern. It hurts to be away from him, but it’s dangerous to be near him.

Rose walks forward, her heels making an aggressive noise against the hardwood. “As much as it pains me to agree with Loren, he’s right—” she rolls her eyes at the word “—they’re being drama c and trying to make you feel bad.”

“It’s working,” I mu er.

“Well, get thicker skin, Lily.”

Ouch. But true. So true.

Lo glares at her though. “Not everyone has iron balls.”

“I don’t need balls to be resilient,” she says curtly before turning back to me. “Next me a reporter gets on your nerves, you can write a nasty email but send it to me instead. I’ll even pretend to be the reporter and reply to you.”

I have the best sister in the world.

Hands down.

As much as her words soothe me, they don’t erase what happened. It’s not so easy to move on from something that just happened ve minutes ago.

“Maybe we should watch a movie,” Connor says, typing on his cell.

“No,” I speak up. “You all were out doing things. Just, go back to them.” I don’t want to interrupt their lives with my stupid mistake.

“We were just having lunch, Lily,” Rose says, her hand presses against my back, guiding me towards the living room couch. “We have those every day.”

Yeah, but I ache to spring in Lo’s arms, for a li le bit of his hardness. Okay, a lot more than a li le. The rubbing up on furniture thing I did before —it actually sounds more desirable now, even if it’s weird. My neck heats the longer I contemplate sex in the company of other people.

Lo and Ryke follow close behind. When we reach the couch, I pause for a moment, watching Lo take a seat on the oversized, plush chair. I picture myself straddling his waist, legs tucked ght around him, and he’ll buck up into me—

I can’t lounge on top of him. I force my rusted, unoiled joints to bend and sit next to Rose on the couch. Connor uses the remote to scroll through movies on the television, silence thickening, especially as I sit straight up.

And Lo is s as well, his eyes ickering to me every so o en.

Everyone, not just us, assesses the weirdness. Aware how strange it is for Lo to be over there. While I’m right here. A large chunk of space between us. We’re not together. Physically.

That rarely happens nowadays.

It would be ne, but everyone knows why I’m separa ng myself from him. I can feel their judgy thoughts in my own head. I can’t believe she wants to have sex right now.

Ryke’s glare says it enough.

Before Connor switches on the lm, the front door opens. I crane my head over the couch to see Daisy stru ng in with a can of Fizz Life in hand, head down, tex ng on her cell.

When she steps into the room, she looks up and freezes. “Um…” She frowns. “Was there a mee ng or something?” Her face suddenly falls, thinking she wasn’t invited to our group gathering.

“Or something,” Ryke replies rst.

Daisy scans the area. Her eyes ping from Lo to me, no cing how we’re not si ng together. “Did you two…” She mo ons between us.

Shit. She thinks we spilled our secret.

“I fucked up,” I explain swi ly. “I replied to a reporter without going through the publicist.”

Her green eyes turn into saucers. “Mom has to be pissed.”

“She’s ven ng,” Rose corrects her. “She just needs to cool o .”

Daisy sets her soda can on the end table and plops down on the other side of me. “What are we watching?”

Connor starts lis ng o names of movies, and I tune him out. I appreciate that they’re all trying to avoid the Celebrity Crush topic, but it s ll weighs on me.

The point of having a publicized wedding is to appease my parents. But if I do something small and anger them anyway, how much will the marriage even ma er?

My eyes it to Lo, and I realize that he’s watching me. I want to touch him—not for sex. Just to let him comfort me without needing anything else. How do I know if I’m strong enough for that?

He slowly pulls his gaze away and forces his eyes to the TV screen. My heart tears apart in a million di erent ways, con icted beyond terms.

I follow his moves and redirect my a en on to the movie. But my head revolves around him, and I nd myself trying to watch him through my peripheral vision. Maybe I can catch him looking at me. I no ce everything. How rigid he sits. When he squirms or adjusts himself on the chair. How he keeps his hand on his mouth, res ng it there and hiding the de ni on in his jaw. I no ce the way he glances at me every few seconds, the same clandes ne looks I give him.

And I realize that I won’t ever know if I’m strong enough if I don’t try. The one thought propels me to my feet and cuts the thick, silent tension in one move. Everyone looks to me, but I focus only on Loren Hale.

His chest rises in a strong inhale as I near. Without hesita on, I crawl onto his lap, and his hands ins nc vely pull me higher and closer, meshing our bodies together. Our limbs entangle un l I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

I release a staggered breath and rest my head on his chest, his heart bea ng so fast. His ngers ghtly intertwine with mine, and the rhythm of his pulse slows when I close my eyes.

Any craving for sex is drowned out by my conscience, not nearly as bad as I thought it’d be.

He kisses me on my head, and I pray for a temperate sleep, tears creasing my eyes whenever I start thinking about what happened.

People make mistakes every day, some small and some big, but I just wonder when I’ll stop making them. Or is this a lifelong thing? Do we all just wander through life, fucking up and trying to put ourselves back together only to con nue on again?

Are we the accumula on of our mistakes?

A part of me regre ably thinks so.

My failures have de ned me more than my triumphs.

But I don’t want to live in that hopeless reality. Not anymore. I want to be the accumula on of my failures, my successes, of all the people I’ve ever met, of the man I love, and the life I want. I want to be de ned by so many factors that it’s too complicated for any mathema cian to piece apart.

That would be the perfect life.

Not good or bad.

Just complex.

Thrive

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 06 MONTHS

FEBRUARY

THE PREMIERE of Princesses of Philly couldn’t just be a quiet event at the townhouse. I counted over ten cameras swarming the ballroom of a

ve-star hotel. Servers meander with champagne and snacks, adding to the

masses of bodies and general hoopla.

My mom is here.

With my dad.

And all of their socialite friends.

In a few minutes, the big screen televisions along the walls will air all of our an cs. And we don’t have any idea what will be shown. “So this is live television from here on out?” I ask Lo, his arm around my shoulder.

We stand close to a po ed plant, which shields half of our bodies from the narrowed lenses.

“Not exactly,” Lo says. “Connor tried to explain it to me. I think we’re just going to be lmed every day, and they’ll play footage from the previous week.” Oh. There’ll be a small delay then, almost live. Most shows are lmed months in advance, and the shoo ng wraps before the rst episode ever airs.

But we’re s ll lming while the show plays on television.

I think it’s just going to make everything crazier.

“Hiding out?” Ryke asks, nearing us from the bar with a can of Fizz Life and a plate of Swedish meatballs.

“Maybe,” I say. My stomach grumbles at the sight of the meatballs. I’ve been so nervous all day about the viewing party that I forgot to eat.

“Come to join us?” Lo asks with a half-smile.

“Yeah,” Ryke says, giving Lo the Fizz Life can and then he hands me the meatballs. For me? I smile so much. Before I can thank him, he adds, “If I have to listen to Sam Stokes talk about Fizzle’s product placement for another minute, I’m going to fucking shoot myself.”

Lo’s lips rise, and he laughs. “Maybe you should take notes.”

In the center of the room, Poppy’s husband converses with my dad, a handsome smile on Sam’s face, his hands ges cula ng as he speaks. My oldest sister stayed home with Maria, just to shelter her from the cameras.

“What do you mean?” Ryke asks, running a hand through his hair. He wears an expensive suit jacket with a regular shirt underneath like Lo, tailored perfectly for their bodies.

I kind of want to take the shirt o Lo though and slide my hands across his abs. Maybe later, I think as I chew my meatball.

“I know I don’t t into this.” Lo mo ons towards the ballroom and the fancy decora ons: gold-leafed lilies, daisies and roses as high-table centerpieces. “But you s ck out even worse than me.”

“It’s true,” I nod.

Ryke extends his arms. “I’ve been to events like this one before. I’ve told you both that.” Plus he a ended Fizzle’s soda unveiling with me about a year ago. It was just as glamorous.

“You look kind of angry,” I add and scrunch my nose to illustrate.

Ryke frowns. “Are you cons pated?”

“No.” I relax my face.

“Then what the fuck are you doing?”

He’s so mean. “Exactly,” I say, not making much sense. But he demonstrated how rough around the edges he really is.

I don’t think anyone has approached him this whole me.

“People don’t have to like me,” Ryke tells us. “I am who I fucking am.”

Lo takes a swig of his drink and pats Ryke’s back with more a ec on than dry humor. “I guess we’ll nd out how well people like you a er the show airs.” Then he turns and snatches one of my meatballs by the toothpick.

“How was that thievery for you?” I ask him.

He washes the food down with his soda. “Illicit,” he says with the wag of his brows. I punch his arm and he actually winces. For real this me. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve been li ing weights, remember?” I ex to show him my bicep muscle (s ll ny, but a bigger ny than before). The cameras go wild behind me, ashing crazily, and I immediately drop my arm and roast.

“You mean that dinky weight that Ryke bought you?” Lo asks.

Ryke no longer pays a en on to us. He focuses on Daisy across the room, who’s being cha ed to death by our mom. I should go rescue her… but a run-in with my mom—who acts like I’m a daughter, twice removed— is not high on my list of things I want to do.

Lo waves his hand in both of our faces and we su ciently face him instead of the gathering crowds. “Maybe we should just bail?” Lo tugs at his collar. He has a point. We’re standing in the loser’s corner with slightly sullen faces, despite a good laugh here or there. And I’ve only thought about bathroom sex once.

De nitely a success on that count.

“Fine with me,” Ryke says.

“No,” I end up declaring, surprising even myself.

Both Ryke and Lo stare down at me like I’ve grown a unicorn horn.

“Rose needs us,” I explain. Across the ballroom, my sister stands next to Connor while he schmoozes some business people. This show is for her, mostly. A li le for Fizzle’s reputa on. But we’re all here and par cipa ng so Calloway Couture will survive the blowback of my sex scandal.

Lo hugs me to his chest like I said some magic words. My dirty plate almost smashes between our bodies, but Ryke swi ly steals it from my hands.

He has quick re exes.

And then the countdown appears on all the television screens. The boisterous talk dies to so murmurs.

“I can’t look,” I whisper, my hands ying to my face. Lo keeps his arm around my shoulders. Five seconds.

“No ma er what happens,” Lo says, his lips brushing my ear, “I’ll always be here, Lil.”

I’ll always be here.

I inhale.

I think I’m ready to watch myself. Even if I turn out to be one insa able fool.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 06 MONTHS

FEBRUARY

AS THE REALITY SHOW CONTINUES, I’m more and more surprised that they’re focusing on the romance aspect of my rela onship with Lily, not just making out, but real stu where I talk about how she’s never cheated on me. Where she says that she loves me more than anyone.

Next to us, Ryke, Rose, Connor and even Daisy didn’t seem that shocked by the good light we’ve been put in. I’m not coun ng on it to last the whole hour.

“You sure you want to stay for the rest?” I ask Lily who holds my hand.

“Posi ve,” she says, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

Not long a er, a montage airs. It takes me a few seconds to discern that they’re all moments where Lily was at the townhouse. Alone.

Lily squirms on the leather couch. And then her hand lowers towards her jeans. She retracts quickly and then checks over her shoulder.

She looks straight into the lens, at the viewers, and stu s a pillow in her face.

The bo om of my stomach falls.

I didn’t realize…it’s been that hard for her while I’m at my o ce during the day. “Lil,” I whisper. She drops my hand, her palms pressed to her face. I’m not sure if she’s even watching through her ngers anymore.

Lily lies on the couch, her laptop on her legs. She looks around and then shuts her computer. Her hand descends towards her jeans but remains on top of the fabric.

She reaches the place between her thighs.

Lily almost crumbles in front of me. Christ. I lean down and whisper in her ear. “It’s okay.”

She shakes her head, trembling.

My whole body ghtens—my muscles on re. I speak quickly, words gushing out of me. “You did ne, Lil. You didn’t break any rules. You didn’t do anything that we haven’t done together. You stopped yourself.” I hope that this’ll relieve the pain in her chest, the nearly unbearable kind that slams into me like a thirty-foot wave.

I wait for it to drag us beneath the current. As I hold her from behind, her tears drip onto my arms. The footage airs just as rapidly as my voice meets her ear.

Lily rubs up against a kitchen chair. She ushes when she no ces what she’s doing.

Lily rubs her pelvis against the counter.

I feel so fucking sick.

Not because she failed herself. She didn’t. But because she believes that she did. She knows that everyone will see this and think she’s a head case.

Lily spins into my chest and clutches my black crew-neck. Before I can grab her, she ducks underneath the shirt, hiding inside. I feel her wet tears on my bare chest, and her arms wrap ghtly around my waist.

“I’m not coming out,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “Don’t make me come out, Lo.”

I place my hand on her head and stare down at her through my collar. “Stay there as long as you want, love.” She knew the show would humiliate her in some way, but it’s di erent when it actually happens.

When you feel the unrelen ng judgment from every goddamn person in the room.

I get it.

Any eyeball that pins on her—I meet with the hatred that turns me cold and dark. I could kill right now. It’s not a lie or an exaggera on. It’s a feeling.

It’s a hurt so deep that the worst seems possible.

I want to hurt people the way they hurt us.

“Hey,” Ryke says looking between me and my shirt, where Lily has hid away from the party. He mouths, you okay?

I can barely shrug.

He takes a step nearer. “She’s alright,” Ryke says under his breath. “Lily, you hear me?”

Lily sni s loudly but she can’t form words. She hiccups, and I rub her back. Her body relaxes into mine.

“Stay strong,” Ryke says, pa ng my shirt. He looks up at me. “Tell me that was her head.”

I let out a weak laugh. God, how the hell am I laughing right now? The noise ends up fading quickly. “Yeah, it was.”

I barely watch the rest of the premiere, mostly disinterested in what Sco edited. Lily stays buried beneath my shirt, and she clings ghter when they switch to a series of interview ques ons cut together.

“Do you think Daisy is as sexually ac ve as Lily?” Savannah asks me, Ryke, and Connor the same ques on but at di erent mes.

I clench my teeth. They keep trying to paint her sister as a sex addict too—or at least a girl that could become one. Lily’s breath catches like she’s trying not to cry again.

This sucks. This whole fucking thing. Shame. Guilt. What more do they want to throw at her?

I stand up, the leather chair rolling backwards. “I’m done with this sh*t.”

“What the f**k kind of ques on is that?” Ryke asks. He rises and throws a pillow.

“No, she’s not,” Connor says, with more force than usual. He stands and bu ons his suit jacket. “That’s enough for the day.”

Daisy, who was tex ng on the ground, slowly rises to her feet. She avoids my gaze.

My brother’s.

Connor’s.

“You okay?” I ask her. I realize we’ve all been checking each other throughout the show. If something can rip friendships and family apart, it’s airing dirty laundry.

“Perfect,” she murmurs, eyeing the emergency exit door.

My brother leans close to me and whispers, “She’s going to bolt.”

I lt my head towards him. “You wanna go a er her?” Daisy terri es me. But so does the idea of my brother being with her.

Ryke frowns and turns to look at me, studying my expression. “No. I want to stay with you.”

I’ve been too paranoid about his inten ons with Daisy. And I’ve been an ass to him all night. He’s just looking out for that girl. That’s it. “You can go if you—”

“No,” he says forcefully. “I’m not leaving you.”

His weighted words hit me hard. He stares at me like they mean more than just this single moment. I’ve been abandoned by family before. A birth mother—who didn’t want to acknowledge me as a kid or an adult. By his mother, someone I believed was mine for too long.

It’d be easy for him to just leave. At any second. I’m not the nicest person to be around. I’d have given up on me within a few minutes.

But Ryke is s ll here.

This guy…he’s too good for me. I don’t deserve someone like that in my life.

AFTER SOME MINUTES with the cameras creeping up on us, Daisy is gone. Disappeared within the masses of people.

We’re in the last por on of the show, where it focuses on the fake love triangle between Sco , Rose, and Connor. When Lily unburies herself from her hiding place—my shirt—I wipe away her remaining tears.

She sni s and holds onto my belt loops. “That was bad.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “They didn’t even show me ipping o the camera. Not once. Those assholes.”

She laughs and rubs her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “You didn’t pull me into the bathroom or the car, Lil.” You stayed strong. I kiss her lightly on the lips, but it turns into something more desperate. Her body curves into mine, and my hand clutches the back of her head.

“I think about her all the me.”

Sco ’s voice echoes through the ballroom, causing us to break apart and turn to the screens.

Sco wears a longing smile. “She’s a restorm that I won’t ever smother. I’m the one who in ames her, who riles her to a new confounding degree. She’s my perfect match.”

That sounds like something Connor would say. Right beside Rose, Connor actually pales, his lips parted in shock.

“I hate this guy,” Ryke says so ly.

“You want to do something about it?” I hope he’s reached the point I have—ready to ght back, something more than just saying fuck o .

Ryke inhales deeply. “What can we do? We signed a fucking contract.”

“Plenty,” I retort.

“Don’t go down that road again, Lo. You need to bury those demons.”

I thought I’d never a ack a guy a er I apologized to Aaron Wells and shut the door on that feud. But isn’t this di erent?

Sco is wai ng for us to explode. For ra ngs. He won’t stop un l the show does. And Lily and I care too much about Rose to do that to her company. So Princesses of Philly has to con nue.

Ending it isn’t an op on.

“I’m s ll in love with her,” Sco says. “And I can’t help what I feel, but it’s there. I love Rose the way she deserves to be loved. I just…I just don’t see Connor being the best thing for her. He’s too self-absorbed to care for that girl the way I do. And I hope, over the course of living with her again, she’ll realize that we’re meant to be.”

My blood boils at each word. I shake my head and look to my brother. “The things we bury,” I say under my breath, “have a way of coming back to haunt us.”

Ryke can try to bury his problems.

I’m going to face mine.

Connor sits in the study room for an interview.

“What do you think of Sco ?” Savannah asks.

“I nd him comparable to a li le teenager jimmying the lock of my house. He’s nothing more than a pe y thief, trying to take what’s mine. Is that honest enough for you?”

“And what about Rose?”

“What about Rose?”

I frown. He said her name like she means nothing to him.

“Do you love her?” Savannah asks.

“Love is irrela ve to some.”

“And is it to you?”

His ngers rest on his jaw in mock contempla on, and he smiles self-con dently. For the rst me, his smile really rubs me wrong. “Yes,” he says. “Love holds no meaning in my life.”

What…the fuck.

The screens fade to black. That was it.

So many thoughts toss around my head while everyone claps. People start talking and heading to the bar for more drinks.

Ryke and I face Connor. I never thought produc on would’ve turned the seemingly nicest guy into the evilest. But they de nitely did.

Rose plucks another champagne glass from a server’s tray and relaxes her back against Connor’s chest. He holds her in place since she’s buzzed. I can’t believe she’s okay with everything he just said in the show.

“So was that the real Connor Cobalt?” I ask, sliding my arm around Lily’s shoulders. Some of the scenes could’ve been fabricated by edi ng, but how much?

I hear my brother’s warning, about Connor not being open enough with me. I never thought he had a similar rela onship with Rose, but she puts herself out there and he’s not even willing to admit that he loves her.

“I spoke honestly,” he says. “And that wasn’t the rst me I’ve done so.”

“So you’ve never loved anyone?” I ques on. “Not another girlfriend, your mom, your dad or a friend?” I don’t want our rela onship to be a game. I knew, in the beginning, that he was just collec ng me like he did everyone else. He was upfront about it, which was why I liked him. I had money and connec ons, so that’s why he befriended me. But I thought we’d grown beyond that. Hadn’t we?

“No,” he says. “I’ve never loved anyone, Lo. I’m sorry.”

Rose points at me, her glass of champagne in hand. “Let it go, Loren. I have.”

“Why?” I snap. “Because you’re both cold androids?”

Her glare is so ened by the booze. “It’s just how he is. If you even understood half of Connor Cobalt’s beliefs, your head would spin.”

“Rose,” Connor says, as though telling her to drop it.

I’ve never seen her give so much of herself to one person, and I fear, badly, that she’s being manipulated by him. Maybe, all this me, I have been too.

Rose s ll defends her boyfriend. “No, Connor has done nothing wrong.”

“He doesn’t love you,” I sneer. “He’s been with you for over a year, Rose.” He’s going to hurt her. A girl who never lets anyone get that far is le ng the wrong person in. Why am I the only one who sees this?

“Lo,” Lily warns.

“No,” I say, “she needs to fucking hear this.” I point at Connor but speak to Rose. “What the hell kind of guy stays with a girl for that amount of me without anything in return? If he doesn’t love you, then he’s just wai ng to fuck you.”

Connor stays calm. And this me, it really fucking irritates me. “She doesn’t need your protec on,” he tells me. Rose sways in his arms, psy. “She knows who I am.”

“So you’re okay with that then?” I ask Rose. “He’s going to fuck you, and then he’s going to be out of here. Does that make you feel good, Rose? You’ve waited twenty-three goddamn years to lose it, and you’re going to give it to a guy who can’t even fucking admit that he loves you.”

He’s a coward. A guy that I thought was the best goddamn person in the world—is nothing but a fake.

Connor says, “I’m not going to admit something that I don’t feel.” I have a retort ready, but he beats me to it. “Would you like me to sit you down and ll your head with numbers and facts and rela vi es? You can’t stomach what I have to say because you won’t understand it, and I know that hurts you. But there’s nothing I can do to change the way things are. I am a product of a mother as brick-walled as me, and trust me when I say that you won’t ever see more than I give you. In order to be my friend, that has to be enough, Lo.”

I process each heavy word. I wish that he felt like I could handle all of him. I wish that I didn’t idolize him so much from the beginning. “And what about you, Rose?” I ask, turning to her. “Is that enough for you?”

Lily sidles next to Rose and holds her hand. The fact that Lily can even comfort someone a er what’s happened to her tonight—it builds something pure inside of me.

Rose nods, her neck straightened and shoulders pulled back. But I catch her squeezing Lily’s hand. “I’m going to the bathroom. You guys can meet us at the car.” Lily braces Rose around the waist, and they weave between the sca ering crowds.

I watch how Connor keeps his blue eyes locked on Rose. With more and more concern.

He is in love with her.

For once, in his life, Connor is blind.

When he meets my gaze, I say, “I just want you to know that I lost some respect for you tonight. And you’re not going to get it back so fucking easily.” I don’t want to play his games. I’m not an investor he needs to slip in his back pocket. I’m his friend. I just want him to be real with me.

“Sure,” he says so ly. “I understand.”

His gaze dri s to the carpet in deep thought. A faraway look that I don’t o en see from him. My stomach is in knots. I already want to forgive him, to say don’t worry about it. He has that power over people. It’s insane, and I realize how much I love the guy.

That’s the funny thing right:

He’ll probably never love me.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 07 MONTHS

MARCH

“LILY! LOREN!”

The paparazzi swarm us like ants crawling out of a hill. Only now they’re willfully rushing between cars in the street, just to lm us on the sidewalk as we try to push our way into a New York City building.

A camera lens accidentally knocks into my head. Ouch. I shut my eyes as the pain swells.

“Back up!” Lo yells at the paparazzi. He guides me forward and protects my head by tugging me closer to his chest.

Ryke physically restrains cameramen with the length of his strong arms, using them as barriers. He’s like my replacement Garth since I had to sadly put him on hiatus. The produc on team wouldn’t let Daisy and me keep our bodyguards, something about “ge ng in the way.”

I miss Garth’s brutal, in mida ng stares that shrank any pedestrians who gave me s nk eyes.

And I miss the way he smells like bagels in the morning. No ma er if he’s a man of few words. He was brawn that I severely lacked.

I try to hold out my leopard-print canister of pepper spray for self-protec on, but I prac cally have a T-Rex claw hand, not able to outstretch my arm very far.

“Who’s be er in bed, Lily?!” a cameraman shouts. “Loren or Ryke?!”

Fire burns my belly. I wish I was a T-Rex. I’d eat him.

In a non-sexual way. Just to be clear.

My neck heats.

“Lily,” Lo says, his lips right beside my ear. “Breathe.”

I realize that I’m taking slow, shallow breaths. My forehead sweats, and my upper lip is probably perspiring. How sexy. “Lo,” I whisper over the shou ng paparazzi and Ryke who hollers to move back! “Are we going to make it?”

I meant to the building. We’re here to support Daisy, who’s in a runway show for a popular designer. But my words seem to encompass more than this me and place. Princesses of Philly was the most viewed reality show on GBA ever. We didn’t have this amount of fame before. It’s a whole new level of crazy.

Lo answers by li ing me up in his arms, front piggy-back style which is in mate and safe. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. I block out the noise. It’s just Lo and me. Like old mes.

He says, “We can make it.”

I believe him.

My legs ghten around his waist, and a bad part of me starts to ache… for something harder. Sex is on the brain today.

Just go into the building. Everything will be quiet.

It’s a wishful thought.

As soon as Ryke pushes through the doors ahead of us, Lo enters with a string of ve or six cameramen trailing him. Only two belong to the reality show.

More ashes and clicking.

There is no escape.

WE SIT on plas c white chairs that line the runway. I lean closer to Lo, gripping his bicep while his hand remains on my knee. “Can you put your hand higher,” I whisper, my heart racing in my chest. I need something.

Wait. My eyes bug.

I take in the se ng. Front row seats to a runway show. Press snap photos of the audience before the models begin to walk. I’m wedged between Lo and Ryke. For some reason, produc on separated us from Rose, Connor and Sco , who sit across the white runway.

I can’t be ngered right now. On this chair. In front of other people.

Some logical part of my brain died outside.

Lo gives me a worried look.

“Nevermind,” I slur together. “Keep your hand, right here.” I pat the top of his hand on my knee for further emphasis. But I wonder if I can just pull it up a li le higher.

No.

I cross my legs to put some pressure between my thighs.

It doesn’t help. I think I’m swea ng through a Calloway Couture blouse. I’m going to ruin one of Rose’s garments. Shit. I wa the silky fabric away from my chest to avoid boob sweat.

Lo rubs my shoulder. “Look at me, Lil.”

I do. His amber eyes almost melt me beyond recogni on. My heart is speeding so fast. Everything will feel be er if we just…I just want him to thrust…no Lily.

He scru nizes my state of mind, his scotch-colored eyes dancing over me. Then he holds my head to whisper in my ear, “I can’t have sex with you today.” His voice is very stern.

I exhale a ght pain in my chest. “I know.” It’d be the bad sex that only medicates my anxiety. The compulsive, beastly side of me that comes out with stress and loneliness.

“Why are you here, Lily?”

I frown. “What do you mean…?”

“In this chair,” he says, “in this building. What are we doing here?”

I glance around. Oh. The cameras. The runway. I look across it. Rose and Connor are talking so quickly, probably in French, and their eyes keep

ickering to me. Concern coats their faces.

Even a few famous actors line the front row. Some even former models themselves.

I turn to Ryke on my right. He stares down at me with those hardened brows. “You look like hell.”

Déjà vu. I abandoned Rose’s fashion show for sex once upon a me. Never again. I don’t want to keep repea ng the same mistakes. This me will be di erent.

“I’m here for my sister,” I tell Lo.

He nods again, seeing that I understand.

I take a deep breath, uncross my legs and lace my ngers with Lo’s. Don’t think about sex.

Good plan, Lily.

And then the music res up—an electronic beat that I wholeheartedly approve of. People s ll brush elbows with their friends, whispering as the models prepare to do their thing, but the overall cha er is drowned out by the song.

I squirm and sit taller, straighter in my chair, in ated with this temporary con dence. Don’t think about sex.

“Lily,” Lo winces. I’m gripping his hand so hard that his ngers purple.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s okay,” he says, res ng his hand on my knee.

I s en, and he retracts almost instantly.

“Wait,” I say hurriedly, “don’t be afraid of me…”

Lo stares at me for a long second with confusion. “I’m not, Lil.” He rubs my thigh just to show me.

I nod. This is good. The spot between my legs pulses. Shut up vagina.

Now I’m speaking to my vagina. Great.

I can leave.

But that means I let my addic on rule my life. I only win if I stay put. Lo’s hand dri s to the back of my neck, his thumb making melodic, calm circles that slow my heart.

His amber eyes never leave mine, and I nd myself scoo ng closer, my leg pressed up against his, my hand on his waistband.

“Lily…” he breathes shallowly. It’s a warning but why does he sound so sexy?

His concern is turning me on? Dear God.

I focus on the runway for uglier scenery. Loren Hale is too gorgeous to stare at right now. But as soon as I turn my head, I realize the models have already started stru ng along the white lane.

Half of them are male.

Who did I smite this past week?

I train my gaze on their feet. They’re the non-sexiest part of a human being, in my opinion. I’ve never been into the whole foot fe sh thing.

Ryke slouches beside me, his grumpiness strangely helping keep my anxie es at bay.

Lo says to us, “Rose thinks Daisy’s boyfriend is one of these models she’s been working with.”

I s ll can’t believe none of us have met him, and apparently they’ve been da ng since January.

“I know,” Ryke says tensely. “It’s a stupid theory.”

“Why?” I ask, the conversa on the perfect distrac on. But my hand has yet to leave the band of Lo’s black jeans.

“Do you not see these fucking guys?” Ryke says to me.

I ush. “I’m not staring…why, did you think I was?” I squint one eye at him.

Ryke shakes his head at me like I can’t even… “Are these models really turning you on right now?” I grow even ho er than before. Technically Loren Hale is turning me on the most.

“Hey,” Lo cuts in. “You don’t know what she’s going through.”

Ryke raises his hands in defense. “I just don’t see how these guys wearing sweater vests and checkered shirts could arouse any girl, not just her.”

Lo thinks about it and nods. “Point taken.”

Whaaa…I pinch his arm.

He smiles, not even pretending that it hurt.

“Just tell me what they look like,” I say, focusing on Lo’s kneecaps. If he could just move a li le closer, I could swing my leg around his—

No.

“Twen es,” Lo explains. “Nice hair.”

I wait for more, but that’s it. “Horrible descrip on.”

“If I paint a vivid picture, you might as well just look at them.”

And fantasize about someone else besides Lo? Not gonna happen. My mind is in DEFCON mode. I have to take precau ons, lock it down, before it betrays me.

Lo mo ons to the runway and says to Ryke, “What if that’s her boyfriend?”

“The blond shirtless one?” Ryke’s face completely darkens, and his jaw hardens to stone.

“Don’t look so upset about it.”

“He’s probably twenty-eight,” Ryke retorts.

“No way, he’s most likely seventeen. Models usually look older than they are.”

“Example A,” I chime in, “my sister.” Daisy has been mistaken for a twenty-something college student as much as I’ve been mistaken for a teenager.

“Exactly,” Lo adds.

“It’s probably that guy,” Ryke says, brie y poin ng to someone.

Curiosity compels my gaze that-a-way. The models aren’t nearly as a rac ve as Lo, so I take a relaxed breath. I nd the guy Ryke picked out. He’s tall, lanky with large ears and a shaved head. I cannot see him with Daisy. At all. It’d be so mismatched. Maybe that’s why Lo and I start laughing at the same me.

From across the runway, I catch Rose rolling her eyes at us, but her lips rise as she whispers to Connor again. Despite her usual cold glare, she radiates happiness. Maybe because Lo and I are exuding some bright sen ments rather than stormy ones.

And Sco has seemed to only push Rose and Connor closer rather than tear them apart. For a brief second, the producer locks eyes with me. He combs back his dirty blond locks, his smile just as greasy as his hair.

He winks at me.

I shiver. My sex cravings begin to nosedive, and I gladly focus back on my boyfriend.

“Right,” Lo says to his brother. “Out of all the models here, Daisy is going to choose the oddest looking one.”

“I don’t have anything to go o of,” he growls, prac cally sulking. “It’s not like I’ve met her old boyfriends.”

I look up at Lo. “Have you met her ex? His name was…Josh, I think.” I hone in on Lo’s pink lips.

He thinks hard, and I watch his forehead wrinkle in contempla on.

Kiss him.

Later. “He had an average build, brown hair,” Lo recalls. He leans into us as he speaks to avoid disrup ng the runway show.

Seriously though, everyone is talking.

That descrip on doesn’t ring any bells for me. “Why haven’t we even seen a picture of her new boyfriend?” I ask them. “Shouldn’t he be in the tabloids?” I check them daily s ll, and nothing. No headlines with: Daisy Has a Hot Model Boyfriend!

“I’m with her when she’s around town,” Ryke explains, “and she refuses to bring him for some reason. It’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe he doesn’t exist,” Lo theorizes.

“I thought about that,” Ryke says, “but she had…” He cringes and gestures to his neck.

Lo groans. “God. Stop…she’s s ll thirteen to me.”

“What?” I perk up. Hickies. Must be hickies. But I don’t want to be called a pervert in public, even jokingly by Ryke, so I don’t o er my guess.

“Hickies,” he says. Knew it. “You’ll probably see them on next week’s episode.”

Lo groans even more and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why does she even have a boyfriend?”

“The sex,” I blurt out.

They both stare down at me like what the fuck? Their angered, dark scowls could kill, looking like brothers. I realize that sex was the wrong thing to say.

Now I raise my hands in defense. Daisy has been trying to nd the “right one” for a while. But she’s always all over the place: picking up scuba diving, parkour, skateboarding, etc. On occasion when the topic surrounds guys, she always shares the same, unsa sfactory story.

“It’s a logical guess,” I whisper-hiss. “She’s trying to…you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” Ryke stares at me like I’m talking in another language. I know I’m speaking English here.

I whisper really, really so ly. “She’s trying to have…an O.”

Lo covers his face with his hand. “This is more than I ever wanted to hear.”

Ryke crosses his arms over his chest. “In Cancun, she said that she had an orgasm during sex, remember?”

How can he say all of that without inching? I’m in awe. “Rose doesn’t think she did,” I whisper. I see Lo out of my peripheral, and a naughty image ashes in my head: my lips around his cock. It’s like a memory and a prospec ve future.

“Lily,” Lo says, grabbing my hand.

What’d I do? My heart lurches to my throat. He caught my ngers sneaking to his zipper. Oh my God. Cameras click, click, this me, some of the lenses pointed more towards me than the models.

Lo tries to distract me with more talk and less silence. The quiet lets my mind wander, especially if it’s fueled with upbeat music and fantasy-inducing backdrops (aka Loren Hale).

“Say she really does have a boyfriend,” Lo whispers between us, “how the hell is he going to feel about the reality show?” He pats Ryke’s back. “You’re in every scene with Daisy, you realize that?” I wonder if her boyfriend already feels threatened by Ryke.

“The asshole couldn’t even show up to her seventeenth birthday party,” Ryke retorts. “You really think he cares about Princesses of Philly? At this point, I don’t even think he fucking cares about her.”

Sadly, I think I agree.

The men’s collec on ends with the designer walking halfway and bowing. He clasps his hands together in thanks, his polka-dot bow e preppy and eccentric like the rest of his clothes. Once he leaves, the whole room so ens, the music dying down.

Some women and men ip open notebooks and click pens to jot down their thoughts. Most likely press for magazines or department store owners. My importance as “Daisy’s sister” shrinks, and the intensity of this fashion show dawns on me.

The lights dim on either side of the runway, the audience cloaked in blackness while the long, wide lane glows white. Every lamp and ash is directed to the middle of the modest-sized room. Black fabric rises against the glass windows, encasing us, even darker and more in mate.

Rose has never had a fashion show of this caliber for Calloway Couture.

This is the major leagues.

I recognize the song that starts the show: “Sacrilege” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

The rst model starts stru ng down the runway in black pla orm heels. How is she not face plan ng? She wears a thigh-length khaki dress with a salmon-colored belt. Her brune e hair is perfectly straightened and delicately curled at the ends.

Before the model reaches the end, another girl is sent out onto the runway, keeping pace with the tempo of the music. I count one, two, three, four models before my sister emerges.

Daisy. I smile—the kind of smile that I can’t restrain, that hurts my cheeks a li le bit. She’s ou i ed in a gray dress with expensive, elegant fabric and a yellow belt, more high fashion than commercial. Her long, long blonde hair hangs to her waist, the ends wavy.

At seventeen, she walks like a mature, powerful woman with poise beyond my capabili es. Her hips sway; each towering high heel steps in front of the other.

Her gaze is dead-locked ahead of her, seduc on blazing in her red lips and focused eyes. The ashbulbs don’t cause her to blink or to falter. My young sister moves like the world is being created beneath her feet.

The moment just steals my breath away. I’m lled with pride for her.

She possesses the audience, even as she passes the other model and brie y poses at the edge. On her way back, she’s closer to our seats. I take a peek at Ryke beside me, and his tense muscles never loosen, his hard jaw stays put like usual. But his breathing is heavier than it should be.

He watches her head down the runway, the song near its end.

And the corners of Daisy’s lips just subtly rise, as though she can feel him, right there. When she moves along, I elbow Ryke in the side.

He glares at me. “What?” he whispers defensively.

“She has a boyfriend.” My sister deserves romance, the red roses kind with chocolates and epic orgasms. Ryke will give her the best one-night stand of her life and leave her with a broken heart. It’s one thing that Lo and I mutually fear.

We’re around Ryke more than Connor and Rose. We know his habits be er, and screwing in the bathroom of the Lincoln Field isn’t that roman c. I’ve done it four mes, I should know.

“Lily,” he whispers, “she’s seventeen.”

We shouldn’t be talking, not during this par cular show. Everyone pays a en on to the clothes the models wear, and I should too. I just nod and let it go.

Only een minutes later, the girls disappear o the runway, gearing

up for the nal walk. And then the rst body emerges.

Daisy leads the models, a coveted posi on. Her pale pink baby doll dress blows with each sway of her hips, prac cally gliding in her silver gladiator heels. About twenty women behind Daisy wear the same garment in a di erent hue.

The audience begins to clap. I happily join in, but even as we do, I start to see this normally-contained sadness eke out of Daisy’s eyes. A numbness that padlocks her bright, erra c personality.

Lo whispers in my ear, “She seems upset.”

Clapping should cheer someone up. It’s basically like shou ng I do believe in fairies! but it does the opposite for Daisy, her light ickering out like a withering Tinker Bell.

When she turns, heading back down the runway and looping the models to create two lanes of bodies, she passes us again.

This me, Ryke speaks.

“Just run, Calloway,” he tells her as she walks past.

She almost falters, nearly stopping dead in her tracks. I swear it was like Ryke chiseled at something deep in her core, something hur ng her. I can’t make sense of it, and the fact that he can…everything just becomes more complicated.

Ryke clenches the side of the chair like he’s restraining himself from not standing up and storming the runway. I imagine him walking backwards as he talks to her, desperately trying to convince my sister to do something she loves and not what our mom tells her to.

Modeling has never been her passion.

Even if she’s great at it.

Instead, Daisy keeps her course, staying as professional as she can.

“You can’t force her to quit,” I remind him in a so whisper. “Her job means something to our mom.”

“She hates it,” Ryke says back to me. “Can’t you fucking see that?”

“We’re supposed to do things we don’t like some mes,” I say, thinking about the reality show, my impending June wedding.

“What for?” Ryke asks.

“Our family.”

Maybe one day he’ll realize how far we’re all willing to go. For the people we love most.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 07 MONTHS

MARCH

“I’M NOT ASKING you to help me.” Snow falls on the back pa o of my dad’s mansion. In a wealthy Philadelphia suburb. I brace the cold with him, heaters blazing from silver machines. We both drink co ee. Only di erence: his has Irish liqueur.

“You don’t have to ask,” he reminds me, si ng back on an Adirondack chair. “I’m your father—it’s in my job descrip on to help you.” Before I refute with I’m not struggling or where were you when I was drowning in alcohol and needed rehab, he adds, “You’ll understand when you have kids.”

I clench my teeth. No ma er how many mes I tell him that I won’t ever have children, he just doesn’t hear it. “I guess I won’t ever understand then,” I snap.

He sips his co ee, watching me closely while I stare out at the frozen duck pond. The grass is blanketed in snow, all white. “Ryke says that I shouldn’t go a er Sco .”

“Is Sco a acking Ryke?”

“Not really.”

“Then he has no fucking say in it.” He scowls, his face unshaven. He looks more like Ryke right now, but I won’t tell him that. Their rela onship is s ll fractured, maybe even beyond repair.

“Yesterday,” I say, “Sco handed Lily a script that told her to hump a pillow.” It hurts to breathe fully, emo ons barreling into me. “Who does that?”

“Men will do anything for money, Loren. He’s just trying to pro t o the two of you, and so far, he’s doing well.” Right, the show is a success.

My stomach ghtens. “Yeah?” I lean forward, my arms on my legs, cupping the mug between my hands. I’m scared of Sco Van Wright.

I’m terri ed of how far he’ll push us.

I try to bo le this fear, smothering it so low that I can’t feel an ounce of it. I didn’t come here to plead for my father’s help. I don’t want him involved. I just needed to hear someone agree with me.

“Hey,” he says forcefully.

I turn my head to meet his hard gaze.

“Don’t let any motherfucker come into your life and destroy what belongs to you. Not your women, not your home, not your money or your career. You protect all of that, you hear me?” He sets a rm hand on my shoulder. He may o er backwards advice for me, but he’s always been there.

That’s more than any mother of mine can say.

“I only have one woman,” I tell him with the raise of my brows.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

I digest all of his words, even if I shouldn’t. “I never wanted to a ack someone again.” But I know I’m going to have to. I admit this to him, of all people. Not Connor, not Ryke or Lily.

“If you don’t want to ruin the reality show, like you told me, then you’ve got to do something to him. He’ll bulldoze you, son. And if you won’t s ck your fucking neck out, I will. I don’t want him near Lily. She’s like a daughter to me.” He takes a large gulp of his co ee.

It’s like there’s a war inside my body with no signs of surrender. I a ack Sco , I feel like shit. I do nothing, I feel like shit. What the fuck is le for me?

“Don’t help me,” I suddenly say to my dad. “I need to do this on my own.”

He nods. “Just make sure you fucking hit him where it hurts most.”

I don’t even know where that is.

The worst part about being the underdog: I never win un l the last minute. So I dig and claw and scrape, struggling in hope that in the nal act, I’ll rise above.

But what happens if I never do?

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 07 MONTHS

MARCH

THE MIDDLE of the a ernoon in the middle of the week has to be the most depressing me. Stuck directly in the center where no one wants it. Lonely. When the house has emp ed. People at work. People at lunch. No one here. Not with me at least.

I’m A. L. O. N. E.

Even the cameramen have all but sca ered.

Right now would be the moment I’d beat myself up over procras na ng on schoolwork. But I nished my online assignments two hours ago.

Go me.

I thought I’d feel more accomplished, but celebra ng by myself isn’t nearly as fun as doing other things by myself. Things I’m no longer allowed to do.

Carefully, I crawl onto the bed with the latest edi on of Uncanny X-Men. It’s not my comic, and Lo has a strict “don’t read my comics before me” rule. Something about me creasing the pages or smudging the pictures. But boredom calls for risks, and I’m willing to risk his anger for Cyclops.

Five panels. That’s how long I make it before my mind dri s. I picture Lo. His abs. His dimpled smile and sharp jawline. I have to stop myself before my imagina on leads to more nefarious places, ones with nudity and gyra ng bodies.

My bedroom door opens just as I look back at the comic. Lo stands in the doorway like an appari on from my mind. Maybe he is.

I pinch myself.

Ouch…

Lo gives me a look. “I’m real, Lil.” He closes the door behind him and sets his leather briefcase on the desk. A gi from his father. It’s hard to pull my eyes from it. A year ago, that briefcase didn’t belong in our picture. Now it has a speci c spot it rests.

It doesn’t feel out of place. Not like I once thought it would.

When I return my gaze to Lo, I realize he hasn’t moved. He carefully watches me the way one would a lightning storm. With curiosity, concern, and rapt a en on.

“If you’re real,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Then why aren’t you at work?”

“That’s the funny thing about working for yourself,” he says with a wry smile. “I can set my own hours, take my work home, and spend the a ernoon making love to a girl.”

Oh…

Middle of the days and middle of the weeks don’t seem so lonely anymore. He doesn’t move closer and my breathing has already betrayed me. At least my body isn’t doing anything spas c…yet.

“Just a girl?” I ask. “Not a speci c one?”

His eyes it from my head slowly down the length of my body. I become so wet in response. Damn him.

He licks his lip and I have to grip the sheets not to jump o the bed and rush him. I’m so not used to horny Loren Hale coming to seduce me. I’m always the overly aroused, emo onally corrupt one. It’s a nice change, even if my body is screaming to go go go.

“I have a girl in mind,” he tells me. “But here’s the thing…” He begins to unbu on his shirt, and I start a mantra in my head. Focus on his words, Lily, not his abs. Words. Not abs. Words. Not abs. De nitely not his cock. “Last

me I made love to her, she ended up crying when we nished.”

My head whips up. “I didn’t cry,” I defend. “I had salt sweat in my eye. That’s a thing, you know.”

“She cried,” he con nues without missing a beat, his lips curving. “She had these big tears in her eyes and she turned into this sappy love monster, blubbering about how much she loved me.”

He starts moving this me, and I try hard not to smile.

“I did not.” I bite my lip and then give up, my grin spreading. “If I remember correctly, I told you that I could feel your soul. It was poe c.”

His knees knock into mine and his shirt slides open, revealing his bare chest. But I don’t have to chant my mantra any longer. His amber eyes and sharpened words have my undivided a en on. The humor oats away and his hand glides to my cheek. “It was beau ful,” he breathes.

Thoughts creep into my head, and I can’t stop my mouth. “Did you come home just for a nooner?”

I internally groan. Way to go, Lily. Ruin the moment.

He reads my embarrassment and breaks into a smile. “I’m not being clear enough?”

“Ummm…” My mind has blanked. Flat-lined. I am brain dead.

He s rs me back to life by grabbing my hand and placing it right over his pants. On his erec on. “Do we have an understanding now?”

Oh yeah.

We’re fucking.

Or making love.

Both. Maybe both.

I’m dancing and hoola-hooping on the inside. He throws his shirt on the

oor and my eyes meet his. I’m not removing my hand. It’s just going to

stay right there. “You know what this means?” I ask.

He narrows his eyes and leans forward, causing me to lie back on the bed. His ngers nd my jean’s bu ons, not wai ng any longer. “You’re going to have to help me out with this one, Lil.”

I frown. “They’re normal bu ons.”

He smiles again. I could get used to that. “Not the bu ons. Help me with your ques on.”

I ush. Right. “Well, you came to me for sex. You’re the one undressing me. You’re prac cally begging me to fuck you.”

“Am I?” Even with his lips together and at, he’s s ll smiling. I see it in his eyes.

I nod wildly. “Oh yeah. The tables have turned, Loren Hale. This is a monumental day. You are aroused before me.” I grin.

He shimmies my jeans to the ground, and I’m too elated to realize that my pan es have gone with them. When his ngers enter me, I gasp and drop my hand o his pants. His ngers pulse just slightly, and my head collapses back on the ma ress. “You feel aroused to me,” he says so ly.

Fuck.

“Key word: Before,” I reply in a staggered breath.

I’m about to li myself on my elbows, but I don’t have me. He doesn’t give me warning before he replaces his ngers with his erec on, entering me fully. I cry out in euphoric pleasure. Every inch of me thrums, like an instrument vibra ng in blistering joy.

He hikes my leg over his hip, deepening himself. He doesn’t pull away, not yet. His lips nd mine and he kisses me fervently, without pause or hesita on. Ever since I started recovery, I could see the reluctance in Lo’s eyes. Like a nightly passenger to our passion. I never thought he’d gain enough con dence in himself, enough trust in me, and enough hope in our rela onship to let all those hesita ons go. To make love to me so unrestrained that every movement is an impulse and nothing takes a second thought.

It’s just natural.

He thrusts and lets me move my hips to meet his. I moan deeply, the noise catching in the back of my throat. He smiles and his movements become harder, more aggressive. I no longer a empt to rock my body into his, not when I’m white-knuckling his biceps and holding on for dear fucking life.

His low grunts ll my ears and send my body over the edge. I feel myself riding the steep mountain to my peak. “Lo,” I choke. “I can’t…hold on…”

He stops moving all together and I let out an involuntary whimper. At least, I think it’s involuntary. I would never make that noise on a voluntary basis.

Lo rubs the sweat o my forehead with his hand. “Come now,” he tells me. He presses feather-light kisses to my neck.

Now?

“You stopped moving,” I remind him. I squirm underneath him, and he pulls his lips away, his jaw clenched.

Oh. He’s having some trouble.

His hands brace my hips, se ling me. “Please come now,” he tells me, “because when I start moving and you have an orgasm, I’m nished.”

“So?” I frown. “We can do it again a er. I’ll blow—” His hand rises to my mouth, silencing my words.

“We won’t have me. Ry…” he pauses to catch himself. “People are coming home from the gym in a half hour.”

He removes his hand. I’m grimacing. I can’t help it. “You almost said his name. And now you want me to come?”

He moves his hips just slightly and the pressure of his cock numbs my body and clears my head. “Ahhhhh….” I moan into my arm.

“Come,” Lo commands, kind of meanly.

“You’re mean,” I mu er into my pillow, my cheek smashed into it.

His lips brush my ear. “I said please rst. You just didn’t listen.” He combs my hair back out of my face, and my legs stay ghtly wrapped around his waist. And then his hands descend to my shirt. It’s ripped open before I have any say in the ma er.

S ll no reluctance in his movements.

He stares at my bra like it accosted him.

“Looks like you’re not the Hulk,” I say into a smile.

His eyes it to mine, humorless, and then he pulls the bra up to my chin, my breasts popping out. Shit. I go to restrain them, partly just to rile him, but he beats me to it. He grabs my wrists and hoists them over my head, and as he does so, his pelvis moves and I crumble underneath him.

My moans are so and sound more like whining than actual noises of pleasure. Lo lets out a heavy breath and clenches his teeth like he’s struggling to control himself.

Coming sounds very blissful right now. I’m not sure I could do it without his help though. I think he knows this. His tongue grazes my hardened nipple and I try to jerk forward, but his large, heavy body holds me s ll to the bed.

It doesn’t take much to get me o .

He sucks gently on the small bud and then li s his head. “Just think about my cock, love,” he says. “It’s wai ng, very fucking impa ently, for you. Can’t you feel it?”

Yes. I feel very, very full.

I repeat his words in my head and focus on his thickness. My heat spasms, and I clench ghtly. He takes one hand o my wrists and lowers it to my clit, rubbing me so quickly that I cry out. The whole world rotates, and I lie back, barely hanging onto his mo onless body as I ride the waves of pleasure that pound into me. One a er the other. Over and over again. Un l my clit is too tender to the touch, causing me to shake when he brushes against it.

He pulls his hand away and leans in to kiss my neck, my breathing too ragged for him to kiss my lips. He sucks gently, then forcibly, and he begins to rock into me again, building up my arousal once more.

When I catch my breath, he presses his forehead to mine and he thrusts. Strong, rhythmic movements that steal my oxygen every few seconds. His lips are so close that we could kiss, but he keeps them apart. I can feel his breath entering mine and mine his.

His hands cup the top of my head and he starts to pump faster and harder, un l we’re both on the same high, trying to reach the same blistering climax together.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 07 MONTHS

MARCH

I PULL my pants up and watch Lily tuck a pillow underneath her chin. Her eyes follow my movements as much as mine follow hers. I’m not sure if it’s fear or love that keeps our gazes matched. Maybe a mixture of both.

I tug at a tangled throw blanket on the bed, about to fold it, and a comic book suddenly tumbles to the oor. When I bend to pick it up, Lily springs o the ma ress and snatches the comic rst. My black bu on-down hangs on her body like a dress, stopping mid-thigh, but her breasts are exposed when she shi s certain ways.

My eyes ash from her nipple to her hands, shielding the comic behind her back.

“That’s my comic.” I don’t ask.

Her red face answers my ques on before her words do. “Do you remember that me we had sex and it was so good that I didn’t ask for anymore?”

“You mean ve minutes ago?”

She nods. “Yeah, well, um…turns out we may have been doing it on one of your comics. Whichjustmakesitmoreawesome!” She slurs the last part together, and I have to piece it apart slowly.

“Which one?” I can already feel my glare. I try, pre y poorly, to suppress it.

She lets out a pu of breath, like she’s thinking hard. “You know, I’m not sure.”

“It’s behind your back,” I deadpan.

“Oh…right.” Lily steps forward and o ers the comic to me. Before I even read the tle, I no ce the large creases and wrinkled pages. We really did fuck on it. Jesus.

And then I skim the tle: Uncanny X-Men. The latest edi on. The one I haven’t read yet. Irrita on ares for a second, but it’s gone before I can even bo le it.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her eyes big and round. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

The smallest slights usually grate on me enough to open a bo le of Macallan. Not today. “It’s ne, Lil. It’s just a comic book.” I can always buy another.

The surprise in her face almost makes me smile.

I step forward to wrap her in my arms, but our bedroom door opens abruptly, no knock, no warning. I expect Ryke to come barging in. For our secret to catch up to us.

But it’s so much fucking worse.

Sco Van Wright stands in the doorway, chest pumping with livid intensity. He clutches a bo le wrapped in a brown paper bag. I try not to concentrate on it.

“Get the fuck out of our room,” I sneer, my veins turning to liquid re. I block Lily’s body from view. I’m used to our siblings invading our privacy, but not this guy. That’s something that I will never be okay with.

Instead of leaving, he shuts the door closed with a loud thunk. “We need to talk.” No humor in his voice. He pulls his cell out of his pocket, and his dirty blond eyebrows rise like you know what I’m talking about.

Oh yeah.

My lips curve in a bi er smile. “Sure. Talk all you want. I’ll listen.” I mockingly wave him on. Lily plops down on the edge of the bed, a pillow pressed to her lap.

“You deleted all of my contacts.”

“Did I?” I feign confusion. “I don’t remember picking up your phone.” I scratch my head. “But now that I think about it…I may have touched it once. With gloves. I was scared of catching whatever disease you have that turns you into such a fucking prick.”

“Loren, I had contacts stored from execu ves that I can’t get back without making a billion phone calls of numbers that I now don’t have. You see the problem here?”

“Yep,” I say. “Sounds like a real fucking problem. Sucks for you, man.” I shrug.

“I’m not ac ng,” Sco snarls. “There aren’t cameras rigged in here. This is serious.”

I glare. “As serious as you approaching my girlfriend every goddamn day and calling her a slut?” I take a step towards him. “You’ve been making our lives miserable for the past three months. And you just walk around here—smiling.” Another step closer. “You think I’m the weakest person in the house, so you’ve been going a er me and Lily. But get this straight, Sco . I’m the last person you wanted to fuck over. You try to pull my arms like I’m a fucking marione e, and I’ll yank yours out of the socket.”

His nose ares.

And before he has a chance to say a word, I ask, “So how’s tex ng going for you? Has it sucked?” I reprogrammed his auto-correct. Every me he types in yes, it reformats to say cocksucker. No is now blow me. And the phrase, I’m on my way is retranslated to I want to smell your asshole. It’s as unpoe c as I could get. And I fucked with probably y common phrases

and words.

His skin reddens the longer he fumes. “The cat shit was you too?” The li er box was in the laundry room. Decided to give him a surprise in his expensive loafers.

“That was Sadie,” I say. “Congratula ons, you’re the rst guy she’s ever hated.” I clap, watching his face morph into pure rage. Good. He looks how I’ve felt.

He closes the gap between us quickly, and I drop my hands.

I threaten, “You make our lives hell; I make yours hell. That’s how this works, Sco . You leave me alone, we have no problems. Your choice.”

Sco tries to break me by simply staring into my goddamn eyes. That’s not going to work. I’ve stared down Jonathan Hale many mes before— Sco is sweet in comparison.

“Did you come here to cry?” I ask him. I could have easily accepted my father’s help and fucked over his life, emp ed his bank account, totaled his car. What I did was small but s ll signi cant—or else he wouldn’t be so upset.

“Fine,” he nally says. His eyes icker to Lily, but I sidestep so he can’t see her. “I’ll play nice from now on.” He slips his cell in his pocket and then he shoves the bagged bo le in my chest. “Cheers.”

He backs up, wai ng for me to unwrap the paper bag.

I don’t have to. I’ve opened enough Maker’s Mark to recognize the red waxy seal on the neck. He handed me bourbon whiskey.

He wants me to drink and break my sobriety. It’s not going to—

Lily darts beside me with a high-pitched scream, steals the bo le out of my hands and chucks it at Sco . The bo le, s ll in the bag, makes a loud impact on the wall beside his head. He jumps back in surprise, the glass sha ering and whiskey dripping down the wallpaper.

I’m so stunned that I can hardly move. Did Lily just…yeah, she did.

“Don’t you dare give him alcohol like it’s nothing,” Lily says.

Sco grinds his teeth and ashes a pained smile, his lips twitching. Then he slams the door on his way out.

It takes me a moment to speak. “Lily Calloway,” I say, shocked beyond belief. I turn my head towards her. “Did you just defend me by throwing perfectly good booze at a douchebag’s head?”

“Yes,” she says with a nod and then lts her chin up for further e ect.

I touch my heart. “I’d propose to you, but I already did that.”

She smiles but tries to stay serious, pressing her lips ghtly together. “He can’t screw with your addic on.”

“He’s not.” I draw her to my body.

Lily shakes her head, more worked up than me. “He’s like Draco Malfoy,” she says, res ng her hands on my arms. “Slimy and evil and a complete narcissis c bu oon.”

“Plus he has blond hair,” I add.

She catches the humor in my eyes. “It’s not funny. The whole thing is so not funny.”

“Lil…” I cup her cheeks between my hands. “No one is going to mess with us or make our lives harder just for shits and giggles. Okay?”

A er a short moment, she nods in agreement.

My hands fall to her ass that peeks out of the bu on-down, but she walks out of my grasp. I watch her bend down to the wet paper bag. “I’ll clean this up,” she says. “You shouldn’t touch the alcohol since you’re taking Antabuse.”

I grimace, but she can’t see my expression, her back turned to me. I haven’t exactly told her that I stopped taking the meds. A er the premiere of Princesses of Philly, everything got crazy. Superheroes & Scones has been packed, more and more manuscripts are sent to my o ce, Rose bugs me to bug Lily about the wedding, and then Sco —I started running on empty.

The last thing I wanted to do was take Antabuse, accidentally eat something cooked with alcohol and puke. I don’t have the energy to check the ingredients of all the restaurant dishes. So yeah, I ushed the pills that physically make me ill if I relapse.

At the me, it felt like I unstrapped a y-pound weight from my

ankles. Now I’m just terri ed to see the disappointment in Lily’s face if she

nds out—or worse, she’ll blame herself. Like it was her fault for not

mo va ng me more or not realizing it sooner.

I’ll tell her.

Not today.

Maybe when the reality show ends, when everything slows down and I can stomach the thought of popping those pills. I’ll come clean, then.

I pass her a waste basket. “Be careful,” I warn.

She pinches the ends of the paper bag like a dirty diaper, the glass sha ered inside, and dumps it into the trash.

“This stu with Sco stays between us,” I remind Lily. “The moment Rose knows that he’s fucking with us, she’ll want to end the show.” Connor will probably convince her otherwise though. Rose’s fashion line has seen a major boost in sales since Princesses of Philly aired. But we don’t want to be the ones who ruin her success or cause her trouble.

“I know,” Lily says, standing up next to me. “We can’t tell anyone.”

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 07 MONTHS

MARCH

I WAKE up at 5 a.m. with a massive headache and nonstop, rambling thoughts. I sit on the edge of my bed, careful not to disturb Lily who lies on her stomach while she sleeps, arms outstretched to embrace her pillow.

I pull the blankets up to her shoulders, and she lets out a quiet sigh, her eyes s ll closed. I wish I could fall back to sleep next to her, but I can’t turn o my brain this morning.

I leave the room, gently shu ng the door behind me. Shower. Co ee. O ce. It’s like I’m a full- edged adult. Most days, I feel like I’m s ll pretending.

When I aim my sights on the bathroom door, Connor suddenly steps out of his room and into the narrow hallway.

I freeze in place, scanning his navy blue, co on pants, shirtless with abs that make mine look like child’s play. He’s going to take a shower in the communal bathroom. And I’ve been more or less avoiding him since the premiere, when he confessed to not loving Rose.

“Morning, beau ful,” he banters like nothing has changed between us. He saunters to the bathroom and holds open the door for me. “A er you.”

Screw the shower.

I walk to the stairs with exed arms and rigid shoulders.

“Lo,” he calls out, sounding con icted.

I stop on the rst step and look back. He stands in the bathroom door, but he o ers not a single extra word for me, not I’m sorry or you were right or I do love her.

I shake my head at him and then descend the staircase. Only a er I enter the kitchen and start the co ee pot do I nally hear the pipes groan through the walls, the shower star ng.

“What are you doing up?”

I jump at Rose’s cold voice, the blue co ee mug almost tumbling out of my hands. I take a deep breath. “Jesus Christ, don’t sneak up on me like that,” I whisper, leaning my back against the counters.

“Please, if I announced my entrance in the room, you’d call me the Queen Bitch. If anything, I’m doing you a favor. You need new material.” She retrieves a red mug out of the cabinet beside my head, already showered and wearing a black dress with a gold necklace.

“Great,” I say, too early to have a verbal ba le with her.

She waits impa ently for the co ee to brew, her high-heeled foot tapping the oorboards. “He’s not perfect, you know,” she says.

My jaw hurts from clenching, I realize. Now I really want this stupid machine to hurry up. “You don’t say,” I mu er, both our gazes glued to the co ee that drips too slowly.

“Connor feels horribly,” she adds.

My stomach ghtens. “Wow, Connor Cobalt can feel?” I quip. “I thought his insides were all IP addresses and router cables.” I cringe; the insult s ngs me worse than I thought it would.

For some reason, Rose doesn’t feed into my dry sarcasm today. “You’re his best friend,” she emphasizes, now staring at me while I avoid her piercing eyes.

“I thought his best friend is his therapist.”

“He was,” Rose says, “before he met you. And what Connor sees in you, I have no idea. Hanging out with you for more than ve minutes is like lying on a bed of nails.”

“Likewise,” I tell her. I nally rotate, actually seeing the way her face has so ened, not as severe, defensive or on guard. She’s trying to be real with me. “Did Connor ask you to come patch things up for him? He got you to do his dirty work?”

She glares. “I’m not Connor’s bitch,” she snaps. “I do what I want to do. You want to know the truth? He told me to stay out of his rela onship with you because he’s afraid I’ll do more harm than good. He’s so scared to lose you, and you can’t see it because Connor won’t let you.”

I process everything she says. “Why is that?”

“He enjoys ac ng like he’s invincible. It’s infuria ng, but we all have our faults, even him.”

I put him on a pedestal above everyone, above my own brother. I thought there was no fucking way Connor Cobalt would hurt me. He was designed to be there for all of us. He made me feel worthy of love even if he never truly loved me.

“Our whole friendship feels like a lie,” I tell her.

“It’s not,” she says. “I’ve known him since I was fourteen, Loren. I’ve seen his super cial friendships and the ones he creates to further himself in life. You’re not one of those. He’s more himself with you than he usually is. You have to believe that.”

“Why are you s cking up for him?” I ask. “He doesn’t even love you, Rose.” This me, I think she’ll have a di erent reac on to the words, no longer drunk o champagne.

But her expression remains exactly the same. “He’s incredibly intelligent,” she says, “but that comes with a few quirks. This is one of those that I’m okay with. I don’t need him to love me because it’s not as though he’ll ever love another woman. Not if he doesn’t believe in it.”

My headache pounds. “Some mes I’m glad I’m not as smart as you two.” I open a nearby drawer and pull out a bo le of Advil and swallow a couple pills without water. They lodge in my throat before sliding down.

“Loren,” she says, her voice s ll icy, “just give me a sign that you understand anything I’m saying.” She really wants me to make up with Connor. This is coming from a girl who dislikes me the most out of everyone in our group of six.

Everything Rose said makes more and more sense to me. Connor won’t apologize or say he’s wrong, not if he believes he’s right. But the fact that I frazzled him in some way—that means he cares about something other than just himself.

It has to mean that our friendship is real.

I give her a weak thumbs-up, prac cally sideways, like a half-assed a rma ve answer.

“Always juvenile.” She gives me a look like I’ll take it and approaches the quarter- lled co ee pot, too impa ent to wait any longer.

I set my mug on the counter and open the pantry door.

Footsteps sound on the oorboards. “Rose, have you…” Connor trails o only when he sees me. I don’t pay him that much a en on. He swallows and then regains his focus. “…my passport, have you seen it? I thought I le it in our drawer.”

“I organized it with our i nerary.”

I grab a bag of bagels and set them on the island. Connor’s eyes icker to me again, tension moun ng in the air. He’s already dressed in a white bu on-down and black slacks.

I put a bagel in my mouth, take out an extra, and twirl the bag closed.

Connor speaks to Rose in French, and she snaps back in the same language.

I’m too used to the French to be bothered by it. I just ll my co ee and slip the extra bagel in the toaster.

Then Connor says, “Lo…”

I don’t spin around as I head to the living room. I just point to the toaster. “I’m not going to bu er it for you.” I take a bite of my bagel and only glance back once. Yeah, I made the guy breakfast, a small, small sign of peace between us.

I watch as his lips pull into one of those genuine smiles—one that holds no trace of arrogance.

I add, “It doesn’t mean that I’m not s ll mad at you.” I won’t let him o the hook that easily, but I doubt this ght will last much longer.

“I prefer my friends angry,” Connor says. “It makes me look be er.”

“Too soon,” I tell him, ea ng my bagel and walking back to the living room.

I can prac cally feel his grin widen behind me. And it takes me a minute to realize that I’m smiling too.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 07 MONTHS

MARCH

I UNDERESTIMATED the amount of people that watch Princesses of Philly. A couple teenagers sip la es and peek around a tall bookshelf, whispering as they spy on Lo and me. It’s impossible to be invisible with Bre ’s camera pointed at us.

I keep asking myself why we le the townhouse. My brows crinkle. I don’t have an answer, so I turn to Lo who peruses the Sci-Fi/Fantasy aisle in the local bookstore.

“Why did we leave the townhouse?” I ask

“Fresh air.” He pulls out a small trade paperback and scans the summary. He mostly reads comics, but on occasion, he’ll branch out into these genres. He devoured Game of Thrones before watching the television show. I told him that I nished the rst book, but really, I just skipped around and read Arya’s parts.

She’s the best.

Laughter emanates from one shelf behind us. My shoulders curve forward, hoping that it’s not something I did. “The air was pre y fresh back home.”

He gives me a look, one that says: I don’t want you becoming a scared, li le hermit. His looks say more than his words. That’s a fact.

I inhale strongly and try to follow Lo’s lead. Just relax, Lily. Be casual. I shake out my arms and scan the row of books. Then I freeze, sensing beady eyes bore down on me.

Slowly, I look up and spot someone with a mop of brown hair, watching us from above a shelf. He ducks quickly when our eyes meet.

Holy shit.

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

I grab Lo’s hand, my chest constric ng in a paranoid, freakazoid way. Swi ly, I drag him into the nearest bathroom, ignoring the fact that Bre trails us. I shut the door on the cameraman before he enters.

He pounds on the door in protest.

“I’m peeing!” I shout.

His st must fall because everything grows silent outside.

My eyes dance over the door like someone is going to intrude any second. “Everyone is staring,” I whisper to Lo. I shiver, like eyes have a ached onto me. Like they can see me in here.

When I turn to Lo, his gaze so ens for me. I prepare myself for an epic pep talk. He holds my biceps. “You’re a sex addict and I’m an alcoholic,” he says, “and the whole fucking world knows it. We have to get used to people staring, love.”

He’s right of course. My mind seems to calm, but my body doesn’t follow just yet. My legs feel gooey, and my shoulders shake a li le, on edge.

The words leave my lips before I can stop them, “Can I give you a blow job?”

“No,” he deadpans.

I raise my hands. “You’re right. You’re so right. Blow jobs are so ‘89.”

“Let’s not go that far.” He smiles so ly, and I don’t know why, but tears prick my eyes. I’m such a sap. And there goes that smile, fading away. “Lil…”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I shouldn’t have asked. Can we do take-backs?”

“Sure,” he says. “And how about we wait in here for a while, see if we piss o Bre enough that he’ll ditch us for Ryke or Rose?”

“I like that idea.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “And maybe a virus will infect everyone, turning them into zombies, and when we leave the bathroom, the bookstore will be completely deserted.”

“Nice,” he says, “but I’d rather not be inserted into the plot of 28 Days Later.”

Damn. He’s good.

“I love you,” I suddenly say. I mean it. Because who else would stay in a bookstore bathroom with me, just to hide out for a li le while.

De nitely not Rose. Maybe Daisy. Ryke would rather die, I’m sure. And Connor can never be added into any equa on without hur ng my head.

So that leaves Lo. Just Lo.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

“DID IT HURT? Did you like it? Have you done it again?” My ques ons pour forth like a broken dam. This isn’t the rst me I’ve asked Rose, but she never provides details, so I’ve waited un l we could talk alone. But we haven’t had much of a chance since the Alps vaca on, a trip planned by produc on. I thought I’d squeeze some conversa ons in on the plane ride home, but she sat with Connor.

The biggest event of the trip, in my opinion, was Rose losing her virginity.

Rose hisses at me, “Lower your voice.”

Okay, so we’re technically not alone. Produc on wanted another group segment, so we’ve gathered everyone together for an evening of bowling. When Rose went to pick her bowling ball, I followed her to the rack.

The others congregate behind our lane in the plas c swivel chairs, out of earshot. But Savannah hovers beside the rack, poin ng her camera right at us. Even so, Sco has refused to air anything about Rose and Connor sleeping together. At rst I thought he didn’t want to come across like the loser on television, but Rose said that they just want to perpetuate her “virgin” label for marke ng.

“Do you not want to talk to me about it?” I ask.

“It’s not that.” Her lips purse while she scans the colorful bowling balls. “I just hate that Sco is taking advantage of a throwaway comment I made in an interview about being repulsed by bowling.”

Germs. Rose grew out of the obsessive compulsive trait when we were li le, but the intensity of the cameras and lack of privacy has reignited some of her old habits. She has a strict policy on hygiene, and s cking her

ngers in three holes that were once occupied by sweaty, uniden ed

hands kind of breaks it.

“Daisy will probably roll the ball granny-style,” I say. “Just copy her technique.”

She ponders this for a second, and her expression so ens a frac on. “Connor and I have had sex again.”

I grin, and I swear she tries so hard not to. “Was it everything you thought it would be?” I ask.

“Be er…di erent, but be er.” She stares faraway, a smile playing at her lips. I try to imprint the image. My sister—swooning. Her glow ashes away all at once, replaced by ice. “Since when do you want to talk about sex?”

True. I’m usually ght-lipped and rosy red about the subject. “I’m trying to be be er about it,” I admit, “and shockingly, it’s easier talking about someone else’s sex life.”

“Not shocking,” she refutes and squats like a lady to grab the bowling ball on the middle rack. Her blouse shi s, and I no ce a red bite mark on her shoulder.

“Ohmygod,” I slur.

“What?” She straightens up quickly in alarm. “What is it?”

“He bites you,” I whisper, my surprise lling my face. She immediately presses her hand to my mouth, silencing me. I never pegged Connor to be rough. I thought he was the sweet, gentle type. Like a friendly giant.

“Don’t be so overdrama c.” As though she’s never drama c? She pauses and then blurts out in curiosity, “Has Lo never bi en you?”

I frown and recall the mes we’ve had sex. Uhh, there are too many to remember the exact details of each one, that’s for sure. He’s probably nipped my neck before.

She drops her hand so I can speak.

“It’s not the bi ng that I’m surprised by,” I whisper. “It’s the Connor bi ng that weirds me out.”

“Then don’t think about it,” she snaps. Good point. “In fact, while I love this newfound con dence in talking about sex, I’m not sure you should be thinking about it so much.”

She’s right. I need to relax.

“I’m just excited for you,” I tell her. “It’s like a milestone in your rela onship.” The orbi ng nerd stars have nally collided.

Out of my peripheral, I spot Daisy slipping on her bowling shoes while simultaneously sprin ng across the carpet towards our lane.

“Babe, what the hell?” That comes from the guy behind her. Twenty-three. Dark hair. Tanned skin. A model. And also her boyfriend. “Be cool.”

She spins around and walks backwards with a lopsided smile. “I’m totally cool.” The moment she steps onto the slick bowling surface, her feet slide beneath her and she falls straight on her bu .

Ryke, slouched in a chair, turns his head to assess the situa on and then glances back at the lane. “How’s that ground, Calloway?”

“Hard,” she banters with a mischievous smile. “It’ll probably leave a mark.”

“That’s usually what happens when your ass meets something hard, sweetheart.”

Okay, this is sexual. I know for a fact because Julian looks cked, glowering at the back of Ryke’s head. Daisy picks herself o the ground, and Julian suddenly kisses her out of nowhere, one roaming hand gripping her bu .

Uh. This is why I don’t like him.

Ryke and my boyfriend see their spontaneous make out session, and they both end up glowering, mildly disgusted and de nitely infuriated.

Everyone met Julian in the Alps, and things did not pan out so nicely. Lo doesn’t like him. Ryke doesn’t like him. Even Connor, who can nd a morsel of decency in anyone, claimed that Julian was nothing short of an ape.

“You gave a speech to the guys, right?” I ask Rose. She places a teal ball back on the rack and heaves a bright pink one into her hands, cringing at having to touch it.

“Yes,” she says, “I told them if they’re rude to Daisy’s boyfriend that we’d have serious problems.” She lets out a harsh breath. “And then Connor had the audacity to tell me that the same rule applies to me.”

I don’t men on that I agree with him.

Rose has bitched Julian out far more than Lo or Ryke. But my li le sister wants everyone to get along, and produc on wants her boyfriend in the show for more drama, so we’re all going to put on a happy face.

For her.

And so we can have one sane day.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

I STRUGGLE with the frayed shoe string, forcing me to take an extra minute to e them. Ryke sits beside me, his dark scowl plastered to Julian, who con nues to s ck his tongue down Daisy’s throat only ten feet behind us.

“I can’t be nice to him,” Ryke says, nally removing his gaze o them. “I’m not fucking created that way.”

“By using the word ‘created’ you imply that someone else made you into a barbarian,” Connor replies, almost absentmindedly as he types our names into the computer. I smile, amused by him but my brother doesn’t take the same route.

Ryke shakes his head. “I sincerely thought your personality was the product of jerking o one too many mes this past year.” He touches his chest. “For fuck’s sake, I’d be a dick if I didn’t get laid for twelve months. But obviously, being a prick is just programmed into you.”

“You’re s ll not understanding,” Connor says casually, “being a prick is a choice. The same way you being rude to Julian is a choice. It’s not that hard to take responsibility for your ac ons.”

Ryke groans. “Just fucking shut up.”

“Hey,” I cut in and nod to Connor’s computer screen. “You know we’re bowling, right? We’re not signing up for Model UN. You’re supposed to make nicknames.”

Connor stares at the screen like I told him that he answered a quiz ques on wrong.

Ryke almost laughs. “Cobalt, is this your rst me bowling?”

“In a public bowling alley, yes.” He begins to delete all of our names. “All the bowling I’ve done has been at someone’s house.”

Ryke’s grin transforms into a glare. “Fucking prick,” he mu ers under his breath. Connor just smiles wider like he’s enjoying being called one.

When I nally nish tying my shoes, I sit up and my elbow knocks into Bre ’s camera. “Can you give me some room?” I snap, on edge.

Connor and Ryke exchange a long look. Yeah, I get it. I haven’t been too kind to produc on this past week. On the ride here, Bre wanted the passenger seat so he could lm me driving, and I told him that he either rides in the back or I’d throw him out of the car halfway down the road.

All the nice sen ments I had towards the camera crew died on the plane ride home three days ago. Sco played nasty in the Alps. He fucked with Lily again, handing her a Magic Mike DVD like it was an innocent gesture, but his ac ons had a clear mo ve. It was the same as him shoving Maker’s Mark into my chest.

And then later, Lily and I caught Ben leaving actual porn in our room.

We didn’t tell anyone. Lily threw the magazines in the trash on her own accord, overcoming a huge hurdle. And although Sco tried to make her relapse, we both considered the trip a success. We skied down the slopes. We laughed. We felt normal, even under the hot gaze of the camera lens.

I try not to let my frustra on and anger towards Sco surface. Not when he’s back at the townhouse, edi ng footage from the trip. Which is

ne by me. The less I see his goddamn face, the less I feel like ripping it o .

“Enough,” Rose snaps, physically pushing her way between Daisy and Julian, separa ng them. “I’m not rushing my sister o to the hospital for oxygen depriva on, thank you.”

Daisy tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, shi ing out of Julian’s arms, embarrassed. She claps her hands, ac ng more lighthearted than I think she truly is in this moment. “So who’s going rst?” She plops down on an empty chair.

“Why don’t we let Julian go rst?” I say with a half-smile. Just saying his full name out loud makes me grimace. He shouldn’t be allowed to share it with my favorite X-Men: Julian Keller. It’s fucking sacrilege.

“Works for me,” Julian says, standing next to Daisy’s chair. He mo ons for her to stand up so he can take the seat.

I’m pissed, but Ryke’s narrowed eyes ash hot, unques onably murderous.

In France, Julian blatantly admi ed to us that he was only with Daisy for the sex, but he’s wai ng un l she turns eighteen, legal. It was both moral and despicable all at once.

Daisy reluctantly rises to her feet and then hesitates, swaying on her heels as she realizes there aren’t any other open chairs le .

Julian ignores her as he speaks. “I hate to break it to all of you, but I’m an amazing bowler.” Awesome.

Ryke clears his throat like he’s trying to swallow an insult. “Excuse me,” he coughs into his hand. “I’m going to get something to drink. Dais, you can take my chair.” He rises, and Daisy walks towards his open seat.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

He nods s y, and she slumps down onto the chair.

“Make it a double,” I call out to him.

He gives me a sharp glare and the middle nger before leaving, passing Lily and Rose as they approach our lane.

Rose places the bowling ball in the return machine and holds out her hands like they’ve been infected with H1N1.

“Why didn’t you just buy a brand new ball?” Daisy asks as she swivels in the chair. “You already bought new shoes.”

“She tried,” Lily answers for Rose. “None of them t her ngers.”

“This is just con rma on of what we already know,” I say, “Rose is a witch. Witch ngers are supposedly very skinny.”

Rose rakes me with a long yellow-green-eyed glare. “I hope you get athlete’s foot.”

Lily’s eyes widen. “Don’t curse him, Rose.”

I break out into a grin. There aren’t many mes Lily sides with me over her sister. She likes to stay neutral for the most part. Rose, o ended, turns on her sister, hands on her hips and her glare focused.

“I’m. Not. A. Witch,” Rose says slowly and dis nctly.

Lily shakes her head and cringes. “Sorry. It slipped.” Funny thing is, I think if Rose were really a witch, Lily would love her even more.

Rose s ll has her hands out like she’s trying not to infect her clothes.

“Here, darling…” Connor swivels in his chair and squirts some hand sani zer on her palms.

“That only kills 99.99% of the germs, Richard. What about the .01%?”

“It’s called an immune system, Rose.”

Her eyes ash angrily, and his grin overpowers all of his other features. They start talking in French, the moment Lily plops onto my lap.

I groan from the impact of her bo om, and she gasps. “I didn’t hurt it, did I?” she whispers with fear ickering in her eyes.

God, I love her.

“My dick is ne,” I say and scoot her over just a li le so that the bony part of her bo om isn’t digging into my cock. “How’s your ass?”

She squints at me and then looks around, checking to see if anyone pays a en on to us. They’re all busy xing their laces. Rose removes the lid o a box, neatly folding the ssue paper a er she picks out the brand new pair of shoes.

When Lily realizes we’re in our own world, she rotates back and cups her hands around my ear. “Are you making sexual innuendos for later?”

I rest my hand on her lower back, my thumb dipping below the band of her jeans. She inhales sharply, but she leans away to examine my expression, truly curious about my mo ves.

I mo on for her with two ngers to come closer. Her lips immediately part, dead-locked on those ngers. Yes, Lily, I’m teasing you for later.

Some mes I think I have to spell it out for her. I probably should have when we were pretending to be in a rela onship…that me feels like ages ago.

She nally scoots closer, and my lips brush the so skin of her earlobe. Her breath hitches. “I’m going to slide deep into your ass tonight, love.” Subtly, my other hand slips between her legs, her jeans of course s ll there.

She almost trembles.

I would have never done this right when I returned from rehab, too afraid she couldn’t handle it. Now I trust her a thousand mes more.

“Lo…” she whispers. “Maybe…”

I wait for her to collect her thoughts.

“Maybe…we should do it both ways tonight,” she says, watching my lips. She kisses me suddenly. I hold the back of her head, deepening it before we pull apart.

“You’re that wet?” I whisper, forcing myself not to harden at the thought.

She nods quickly. “Yes.” She squirms. “Or do you think it’s too much to do both?”

“We’ll see.” I kiss her again, and then Ryke returns to our lane, handing me a bo le of water. Daisy is about to stand up, o ering him the seat back, but Ryke waves her to stay there.

“Can we start this fucking game?” he asks.

Lily frowns, eyeing the alley. “Where are the bumpers?”

“We’re not playing with bumpers,” Rose tells her, squir ng more sani zer on her palms, even though she just touched brand new bowling shoes.

“Bumpers are the best,” Daisy concurs. “You can throw the ball really hard and try to ziz-zag it into the pins.”

“Yeah,” Lily agrees.

“Then you two go play on that lane.” Rose points to the empty one beside us.

Lily springs to her feet. “Fine. We’ll be having more fun anyway.”

Daisy hesitates for a second before rising, and then she nudges her douchebag boyfriend’s leg, who’s tex ng. “Do you want to come?”

“What?”

“Bumpers or no bumpers,” she brie y explains.

“I’m not playing with the kid bumpers. They’re dumb.”

“Hey, they’re grownup bumpers,” Lily says, “for grownups who don’t like gu er balls.”

Julian looks at Lily like she’s a complete idiot.

“Julius…” I start with what should be his righ ul name, but I stop myself, remembering our promise to Rose. Be civil. Whatever. My lips close, but I grind my teeth harder than I like.

“It’s Julian,” he says for the thousandth me to me.

“How about we team up against Rose and Connor?” I ash Rose a look like is that civil enough for you?

She nods in approval while Julian shrugs, seeming a bit skep cal about the olive branch I’ve extended. It’s not a trick. Then he says, “Sure, man.”

“Great.”

Lily kisses me quickly on the lips, and I pat her on the bo om. When she leaves to her lane, her en re face is bright red, and she tries hard to avoid the cameras.

Ryke watches my girlfriend depart with her sister, and I can see his choice even before he takes a step in that direc on. Julian being the same age as Daisy is ten mes worse than Ryke. I can’t even trust Julian for a second. I have no reason to.

“I’ll be—” he starts.

“Whatever, go play on your bumpers, bro.” I can’t help but give him a hard me. It’s like a busted func on in my brain.

He rolls his eyes, wavers for a moment, and then follows Daisy to the other lane.

Connor deletes some of the names, leaving just four. I laugh when I no ce he took my p to heart. He’s nicknamed all of us a er Greek gods.

I scan the remaining list:

Zeus/Athena

Hades/Dionysus

Julian picks up a light blue ball from the carousel. “Who am I?” he asks. “Zeus?” He’s not the brightest anything.

“You would be Hades. God of the underworld,” Connor says.

“All around fantas c guy,” I add dryly.

“Sweet.”

Jesus.

Ryke no ces the screen from afar and glares at Connor. “You’re a real douche, you know that?”

I don’t get it.

Rose puts her hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Oh please, Loren would be Dionysus regardless if he drank or not.”

Ryke just keeps shaking his head un l Daisy distracts him, holding up two giant green bowling balls to her boobs.

I internally grimace. Do not think about that part of her anatomy. “Who is Dionysus?” I ask.

Rose clari es, “the god of wine, par es, and basically hedonism.”

“He’s a man of chaos and pleasure,” Connor adds.

“Sounds about right,” I reply. “Thanks, love.”

He winks and mo ons for Julian to start us o .

Daisy’s boyfriend steps up to the alley with his ball in hand, and my stomach constricts the longer I have to watch him. How do you withstand a guy you just don’t like? He knocks down all the pins but two and then pumps his arm.

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

We con nue to play a few rounds, with Connor and Rose clearly in the lead. Connor forgot to men on that his boarding school had a bowling alley, and they’d bet on games with money and favors. So basically, he hustled us.

I don’t mind at all. The more we lose, the more Julian’s compe ve

nature rises—glaring, hu ng, a poor sport all around. Whenever I look to the other lane, Lily and Daisy are in ts of giggles, si ng on their knees and trying to spin the bowling ball before rolling it down the alley.

Daisy even covers Ryke’s eyes so he has to bowl blind. He’s actually grinning. My gaze shi s to Lily. She prac ces her bowling stance by the swivel chairs and every me she goes to mock throw, the weight of the ball causes her to careen unsteadily on her feet. Her brown hair hangs in her eyes and she brushes it away before trying again.

I love her.

The world seems empty whenever I watch her. It’s a peaceful existence. But I know a life with just the two of us, alone, is a future be er as a fantasy. Friends. Family. They’re not easy to leave behind anymore.

Laughter beside her lane breaks my focus. Ryke li s Daisy by the legs, hanging her upside down, and she can’t catch her breath, her laughs echoing through the bowling alley.

“Hey!” Julian shouts. Shit. He storms over to my older brother. “I’m sick of you always hanging around my girlfriend, man.”

Ryke only drops one palm, holding Daisy perfectly upside down with one hand, clutching her calf. She swings in the air, blood rushing to her head, but her smile is huge.

“Then maybe,” Ryke says, “you shouldn’t leave your girlfriend with another fucking guy.”

Julian is about to shove him, but Lily intervenes. Shit. I shoot to my feet, sprin ng to the lane while she blocks Julian with two hands. He swats them away.

“Back o ,” I sneer at Julian.

He takes a couple steps in a safe direc on. “Daisy…” Julian says. “Play with me.” It sounds like an order.

Ryke grips Daisy by the waist and ips her right-side-up, her body meshes with his, sliding down his chest slowly before her feet touch the ground. She breathes heavily, her lips parted. Ryke has a way with women. There’s no denying that.

He xes her shirt that rides up her stomach. “What do you want?”

She swallows hard like she’s never been asked that before. And then she shrugs.

Ryke looks around at all of us as we watch him. I don’t know what to make of anything anymore. I’d wish for people to be simple—just so I can understand everyone—but then they wouldn’t be real.

“I think it’d be be er if I just went home,” Daisy says. “I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

“Daisy—” Ryke starts.

“No, it’s cool.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Julian says.

“No, I will.” Lily steps up from behind me.

And then Rose rises from her seat. “You guys can nish up.” She tosses her empty bo le of sani zer in the trash on her way towards the door. Daisy skips to keep up with her older sister and Lily is right there with them in a quick second.

A er the girls are gone, Julian says to Ryke, “You want to fuck her, that’s ne. Just stop ge ng in my way.”

Ryke charges forward, “You motherfucking…” And then Connor steps between them.

“We’re in public,” he announces.

“Let’s go outside then,” Julian says. “He wants a ght—”

“You’re not gh ng my brother, Julius. Leave it alone.” I grab Ryke by the arm. “We’re going.” I drag him towards the exit.

“How can you put up with him?” he growls at me, turning his back on them with rigid joints.

“I can’t,” I say. “That’s why I’m heading out this door. I walk away from

ghts all the me. You should try it once in a while.” I push open the door

and squint at the bright sun.

“Yeah?” he says, shielding his eyes with his hand.

“Yeah.”

Between Sco and Julian, I’ve reached my limit on dealing with people I don’t like.

That’s Connor’s game, not mine.

Thrive

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

LO and I curl on the couch, rereading Avengers: The Children’s Crusade together. Even though this is our h read-through, Lo ips the pages so

slowly, allowing my mind to take mental detours.

Not the sexual kind.

The wedding in ltrates my brain, especially since Rose asked me what color bridesmaids dresses I preferred this morning. Like always, I told her to choose.

I can’t believe I’m just twenty-one, on the path to marriage when all I really wished was to walk down the aisle with my head on straight. Emo onally ready for something so serious.

My wishes have not come true.

Everyone fears I’ll become the runaway bride. No one says it, but I see it in their eyes. But it could just be my own fears, my own re ec on staring back at me.

The front door blows open, and dressed in his usual bu on-down and slacks, Connor shuts it behind him. At the same me he sets his sights on the staircase, Rose’s heels clap down it. She latches onto his wrist, her eyes pulsing with hot fury.

I thought if Rose lost her virginity to Connor, their rela onship would be less vola le, lled with even less verbal sparring and wit that tosses my brains. Wrong. They s ll ght in French, and she s ll looks at him like she could rip o his balls.

I crane my neck over the couch to watch them, too curious.

Connor pries her gingerly o his wrist. “I think I know where the bedroom is.”

“We’re not having sex right now.” She doesn’t even a empt to lower her voice.

So the ght is about sex?

“All I meant was that I can lead myself upstairs. I said nothing about sex.”

Oh. Never mind.

Connor slides past Rose mid-stair and disappears out of my view. Shit.

Rose hu s and says, “We don’t have me to accommodate your ego.” She stomps upstairs behind him, out of earshot.

I sit up, untangling myself from Lo while he con nues to read the comic. I check the internet on his phone, popping up Twi er, and Lo watches me out of the corner of his eye. When I search #LilyCalloway, brutal messages appear.

@NorthGuy77: Do you know how many diseases #LilyCalloway

must have? I wouldn’t go near that twat.

@DaniellaESP: #LilyCalloway’s vagina has to be huge.

A lump rises to my throat. I have to switch to a di erent hashtag.

@RealityTV89: Lily and Lo are the absolute cutest AND sexiest

couple on TV. If you’re not watching #PoPhilly, you suck.

It’s a bit disheartening that people don’t like me, by myself, but when they talk about me with Lo, they gush. But I’ll take the good with the bad. I’m not that choosy.

“Lil,” Lo says, closing his paperback comic. “Stop going on Twi er. It’s not healthy.”

“That’s the rst me I checked it all day,” I defend before logging o . I pull up Celebrity Crush and my heart does an extra pump at the headline: RE-POLL: Who Should Lily Calloway Be With? Loren Hale or Ryke Meadows? by Wendy Collins.

Great.

Of course I remember the poll months ago where Lo lost to his brother. Wendy Collins most likely wants to see if opinions di er a er the show aired. I swallow the lodged pebble in my throat and click into the ar cle.

I scroll down to the poll and vote for Loren. The minute I click his name, the current results ll the screen.

Ryke Meadows: 12%

Loren Hale: 88%

“Ohmygod!” I inch back, nearly jumping on the cushions, and hit Lo’s arm repeatedly. “You’re eighty-eight percent!”

Confused wrinkles crease his forehead. “Eighty-eight percent what?”

I frown, not sure how to phrase it. “Eighty-eight percent of a winner against your brother…”

He tosses his paperback comic onto the co ee table and leans into me to read the ar cle. He laughs and meets my eyes. “I guess those rumors will start ending now.”

I didn’t even realize…but yeah, they will. If people are star ng to believe that Lo and I are an actual, real couple, not for appearance or for publicity but because we’re in love, then they’ll forget about Ryke as a three-way op on.

Today is a good day.

“Lily, Lo!” Rose calls from the bo om of the stairs. We both turn our heads. Her expression ips between concern and pure rage.

Any momentary smile just vanishes in an instant.

“Can you come up here for a minute? We need to talk to you both.”

We?

Lo and I exchange looks. We’re both clueless what this could be about. For all I know, they’re calling us upstairs for a surprise party…

Fat chance.

Thrive

CHAPTER THIRTY

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

The thought plays on repeat while Lily and I sit on Connor and Rose’s bed. The longer he spills these details, the more darkness spreads over my face, clinging to my emo ons like tar. My leg jostles in irrita on and anxiety while Lily shakes her head, as if their words are nothing but wrong.

Connor and Rose locked up their alcohol—a bo le of wine and tequila —and it went missing.

I sense where this is headed, even before Connor says, “We found the empty bo le at the bo om of your closet.”

Their eyes, along with my brother’s, drill into me. Ques oningly. Accusingly.

It’s not true, but I have no fucking evidence. Why would my word hold up? I’m the addict. I’m untrustworthy. Anything I do or say won’t ma er because it could all be a lie.

It’s why I remain quiet. It’s why my heated gaze stays xed on the wall. Through my silence, Lily begins to defend me. “He would have thrown up if he drank!” she yells. “He’s on Antabuse.”

I rub my lips to hide a grimace. I should have told her that I quit taking the pills. Christ. I should have fucking told her.

I bury my anguish beneath confusion, trying to piece together who put the alcohol in my closet. But it’s not a di cult problem to solve. Sco wants drama. He’s received plenty from us, despite his declara on to play nice.

“Are you s ll taking it?” Ryke asks me.

His words push the wrong bu on. Hate sears my lungs. “Shouldn’t you know that? You count my pills.” My harsh voice hurts my ears. I hate this.

I hate that I’m going on the defensive, but it’s the easiest mode to be in.

Rose almost steps forward in retalia on, but Connor places his hands on her waist to keep her calm.

Ryke scratches the back of his neck. “I stopped because I was trying to trust you.”

Why are you such a fuck up, Loren? My eyes start to burn. “I don’t even know why you ask me,” I say. “You already think I drank.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

Connor cuts in to ease the situa on. “We can squash this really easily. We haven’t seen you sick these past couple weeks. All you have to do is show us your pills so we know that you’re taking them.”

I can’t. They’ll hate me. I don’t need to see their disappointment. “It’s not your fucking body, Connor,” I sneer. Why can’t they just leave me alone? It’d be so much easier. “This doesn’t a ect anyone in the room but me and maybe Lil. I don’t have to tell you shit.” I stand, about to leave this all behind me.

I can’t look back at Lily. I just storm towards the exit, but Rose steps in my path, stretching her arms on the door frame to physically block me. I don’t need this right now, not from her.

“Your addic on a ects everyone in this room,” she nearly yells. “If you can’t see that—”

“I see just ne,” I say coldly. Don’t push me, Rose. My jaw throbs. My muscles strain. I just want to escape this. Doesn’t she get it?

“Don’t be an idiot.”

Don’t be such a fucking idiot, Loren. I let out a short laugh. “That’s so fucking easy for you, isn’t it?” I say with malice. I am being swallowed by blackness. I can’t see a way out besides hur ng her as much as she’s torturing me. “Being smart.” I step forward in her face. “Miss Perfect. What do you have to worry about? Does my hair look good today? Do my shoes match my dress?”

“Lo,” Connor warns.

His voice is so so behind me. I drown it out. I watch Rose’s ribcage fall and rise heavily, venom seeping out of her eyes.

I begin to numb.

I rotate and spot her organized bookshelf, too me culous, nothing out of place. I walk over to the shelves. “Let’s see, Rose…” I pick up a hardback and ip through the pages before thro ling the book, the spine ungluing. “How does this feel?”

She inhales severely, her collarbones ju ed out.

Her pain slices my insides, and I just keep moving, being cut open with each soulless ac on. I open a stack of manila folders and shake the papers loose.

“Stop it!” Rose shouts, dropping to her knees to collect each page.

“This doesn’t bother you, right?” I say, agony clenching my stomach, gripping my bones. I wish she would hit me. Deck me right in the gut. I just want this pain to go away. “Nothing’s fucking wrong with Rose Calloway? I’m the idiot. I’m the fucking moron in your world who’s so stupid and sel sh that he would drink again and again.” I’m the fuck up. The degenerate. The loser.

Just leave me alone.

Let me go.

“No…” she says, eyes wide in horror at her sca ered papers.

My throat almost closes at how crazy she’s become. I stare dazedly as she breathes sharply, hypervental ng. Connor approaches quickly and bends down to her, whispering in her ear. Then he li s her by the waist.

She screams manically, “No!” Rose kicks out to try to reach the papers.

I’m going to throw up. Sickness rises from my stomach.

“Stop,” Connor says in the pit of her ear.

She screams shrilly, a despera on that I’ve never heard from her. While Connor holds her back, Rose’s eyes meet mine.

And my mouth moves before I can stop it. “It took you twenty-three goddamn years to nally lose your virginity,” I say, nding a chink in her armor. “And you lost it to a guy that’s just fucking you for your last name.”

“LOREN!” Connor shouts.

I almost stagger back by the force of my name from his lips, his face blanketed with rage. Cold washes over my body, guilt squeezing my lungs. Why can’t you just hit me? I deserve that. I open my mouth to ask, but he says, “Don’t.” The room silences. My full name o his tongue s ll rings in my ears. “Give me a minute.”

While he takes care of Rose, I concentrate on the ra ers up above, my legs weak from that outburst. This could have gone another way…any other way would’ve been be er.

Ryke sets his hand on my shoulder. I can’t look at him.

“Hey, it’s all right.”

It’s not.

“Look at me.”

I can’t. I choke on a breath, tears welling. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He cups my face between his hands, forcing my gaze on his. “We’re on your side, Lo. We’re not against you.”

I barely glance over at Rose, who sits on the vanity bench, Connor wiping her tears with his thumb. She almost never cries.

“Lo,” Ryke says, turning my head again so I focus on him. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah?” I breathe. “You all look at me like I’m a dog that needs to be put out of his misery. I’m just wai ng for one of you to nally do it.”

His expression just breaks. “That’s not going to happen.” He doesn’t deny that it’s the case.

“Right,” I whisper. And then I make the mistake of nally looking to Lily, who’s on the edge of the bed. She is frozen in confusion, which is why she never intervened. She wears a haunted expression, like I betrayed her.

I guess I did. I swallow hard.

“Are you going to puke?” Ryke asks.

“I don’t know…” I scan the room, searching for a way out again. But I can’t really escape myself. I have to break away from my brother. The tension between Lily and me is what’s tearing me apart.

In order to resolve something, I have to talk to her.

So I head over to the bed while Ryke crosses his arms. The longer I stare at her features, the more this hurts. “What?” I say.

“Did you drink?” she ques ons.

I stagger back. She actually thinks I drank?

“I just…I don’t understand why you wouldn’t get your pills to prove it,” she says in a small voice.

“So you’re going to take their side over mine?” I choke. Stop being defensive. It’s one of the very few posi ve voices in my head.

“I’m not taking sides.” She stares at her hands while she thinks hard. “I just want the truth, Lo.”

“I didn’t drink.” I shake my head over and over, my eyes clouding. “But I can’t prove it. I stopped taking Antabuse months ago.” The truth doesn’t free me—doesn’t li a weight o my chest. I am strapped with baggage so heavy that there’s no hope to reach the surface.

“You did what?!” Ryke shouts.

“They were driving me nuts!” I yell. I hate this, but it’s a conversa on that I can’t avoid anymore. “I’m paranoid about everything I eat—if it’s accidentally cooked in alcohol. I picture myself puking from a shi y fucking meal. I can’t do that for the rest of my goddamn life.” I turn back to Lily. “You have to believe me.” I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t believe me. I can’t handle this—

“I do,” she says without any doubt.

I exhale deeply and walk to the bed. I reach in for a hug.

Then she pushes me in the chest and points a nger at me. “But it’s not okay. It’s not.” I should have told her. Her chin trembles, and she pulls her shoulders back with more con dence. I love her for it. “You can’t stop taking them just because it drives you nuts. And it’s not okay that you kept this from me…from us…”

Her tears match mine. “I know,” I tell her in a whisper. “I’m sorry.” I sit next to her, and she scoots closer to me. Then our arms sort of meet each other at the same me. I don’t want to let her go.

“We’re in a ght, just so you know,” she whispers. “I’ll sleep in Daisy’s bedroom.”

Pain contorts my face. “You haven’t had sex in three days.” It’s the truth. She’s been cramming for an exam in May, and she falls asleep before we ever get that far. It’s been good, but she won’t be able to keep the rou ne up for long. It’s just not how her brain works. “I was going to…” I trail o as she shakes her head.

“I don’t care about sex. I care about you being healthy and not drinking.”

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with pride. For her. But also fear for me. I’m falling behind. I can feel myself regressing while she’s barreling ahead. I have to get my shit together.

“We have another issue,” Ryke suddenly says, pulling our a en on to the room.

“We don’t have to bring that up now,” Rose snaps.

Connor and Rose stand together, hand-in-hand, and I try to string some apologies together, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

Rose raises her chin, poised again. Like nothing happened. She just gives me a single nod like it’s done, let’s move past this.

I don’t think I’ll forget it though. I’ll have this guilt within me forever.

Ryke grabs a camera that belongs to the crew. I frown, and Lily and I both stand up, coming to his side. “Watch this,” he says.

My stomach overturns.

This isn’t good.

Thrive

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

NONONONO.

I peer at the camera in Ryke’s hands, already emo onally drained with Lo. I wish we could rewind, go back to the couch with our comic books and pretend like this was all a nightmare.

Instead, Ryke hits the “play” bu on on the camera. Oh my God. My eyes widen. Lo and I are in the bookstore—the day that people, in general, started to freak me out. I watch myself drag Lo into the bathroom and then shut the door closed on the camera.

Anxious heat builds across my skin. In the video, I say, “Can I give you a blow job?”

I can explain. My hand shoots in the air, about to gush forth all the excuses that are surprisingly truths. “I was having a bad day,” I start.

“Shhh,” Lo says, frowning and really glaring at the camera. I’m sure that look is meant for Sco . And as we just watch the door in the video, sound e ects start playing…of moaning and male groaning. They never showed how Lo rejected my request? Or how I took it back too? My frown deepens.

“What is this?” Lo asks, his hand slipping in mine before I have a chance to bite my ngernails. “Is this some kind of fucked up joke?”

“You tell us,” Ryke refutes. “You’re fucking in a public bathroom in the middle of the a ernoon.”

My stomach sinks. Is this how they’d react if they knew we’ve done that many mes before the cameras started invading our personal space?

“Nooo,” Lo says the word slowly. “We didn’t fuck in the bathroom. We don’t fuck anywhere but our bedroom.” I shut up because I’m a worse liar than him. This is fact. “Someone must have tampered with the video.”

“So you didn’t ask to give Loren a blow job?” Rose ques ons me, her hands set on her hips.

“I…” My elbows are roas ng. “I did do that…” I mu er.

“And then I told her no,” Lo adds. We’re not lying about this—that’s the weird thing.

“What were you actually doing for thirty minutes in the bathroom?” Connor asks casually.

I relax a li le, not feeling as defensive with him.

Lo says, “I was giving Lily a pep talk.”

“I needed one,” I say. I smile at Lo, and he rubs my back. Then I remember my earlier declara on. I never believed that he could start lying to me a er rehab. And I take one step away from him, his hand falling from mine. “We’re s ll in a ght.”

His throat bobs. “I’m going to start taking Antabuse again, Lil.”

“Good,” I say with a nod. I ache to step into his arms, for him to hold me and for me to hold him. Nowhere feels be er than in his embrace. But I have to do what’s best for him. No enabling. So I can hold out for a day or so. I turn to Ryke. “Fast-forward to the end. When we come out of the bathroom, I know I’ll look disappointed.”

Ryke speeds up the footage, and when he presses play, I watch myself exit the bathroom, my ngers laced with Lo’s. My hair is perfectly

a ened, but my lips are just slightly curved downwards. “Ah-ha!” I point

at the camera. “I look so upset.”

Rose nears the screen with disbelief. I expect her expression to ood with realiza on. It doesn’t change.

“That’s you disappointed?” Ryke asks. “You’re swea ng and your face is red.”

“It was hot in the bathroom,” I defend.

“It was,” Lo agrees but his voice is so . He knows that we have no evidence in our favor. They just have to trust us. Maybe they shouldn’t. We are lying to them on one account.

“Are they going to air this?” I ask.

“Probably,” Connor says, “but it helps promote your wedding.” The wedding. I internally shrink. “The bad edit would be you slipping into the bathroom with another guy.”

“We’re just concerned about your health,” Rose says.

I wish, so badly, they could just believe I’m doing okay. But only Lo truly sees my progress. He’s the one wrapped so closely with my sex addic on. The others just see glimpses here and there, and the bad mes seem to s ck out far more than the good.

“I didn’t have sex, Rose,” I tell her, desperately hoping she accepts this truth. “I’m doing be er. I mean, I shouldn’t have asked Lo that…that ques on. But besides that, I’m doing be er.”

I can go a day without sex, no crippling anxiety or fear a ached. Sure, some mes I cling onto Lo more than I should. But it’s an everyday ght.

I don’t know how to show them what I feel.

Lo reaches down and his ngers brush against mine, silently asking if he can hold my hand.

I stare into his amber eyes that express a thousand regrets. He’s bea ng himself up about the pills more than I ever could. This video is no one’s fault…but maybe Sco Van Wright’s.

I squeeze his ngers, and he laces them with mine.

“I thought you were in a ght,” Ryke says to us.

“We are,” I say so ly, not taking my eyes o his. No one is going to hurt us: I read in his gaze. No one is going to pull us apart.

Not Sco .

Not my sister.

Not his brother.

If someone sinks us, it’ll be ourselves. That, I’m sure of.

Thrive

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

LOREN HALE

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

I STAND rigid like marble at the base of the staircase. The living room television is turned on, playing a rerun of Princesses of Philly. The episode revolves around the Alps trip where we all played party games and had to endure Julian as well as Sco .

Rose sits on the couch, her computer on her lap and her eyes i ng to the television. She doesn’t no ce me lingering.

“Haven’t you already seen this episode?” I ask. She doesn’t turn around to acknowledge my presence, which pounds another ounce of remorse into me. I haven’t confronted her about what I did a er they accused me of drinking. Apologies in ltrate my head. But I always relate “sorry” to a plea for forgiveness. And I don’t know if I want her to forgive me.

Silence hangs in the air and I let out a long breath. Maybe I should just say it anyway. Because I am sorry. I do mean the words.

Before I can open my mouth once more, she nally answers my earlier ques on, “I’m making a list of how much screen me each Calloway Couture piece has, who wears the garment, and then I’m cross-matching the numbers with sales.”

“How’s it going?” I wonder.

“Surprisingly, the clothes that Lily wears have the most sales, but she also has the most air me, so that’s probably a factor,” Rose tells me.

My eyes li to the TV, and I see Julian rolling his eyes and taking a sip of beer. Even his virtual presence causes my nerves to re and my skin to crawl. And yet, I s ll tolerate him. Is that something we do for the people we care about?

“How can you stand to be around me?” I suddenly ask what’s been plaguing my mind.

Rose shi s in her seat to look over the couch, her gaze mee ng mine.

“What do you mean?”

“You hate me,” I say, “but you put up with me for Lily. It must be hard, right?” I’m no easier to be around than this guy. That’s the sad truth that tears at me.

She reads between all the lines, her eyes i ng to the screen and then back to me. “You’re not Julian,” she says like I’m an idiot. “You don’t even come close.”

“I made you cry,” I say, my voice hollow. In her bedroom. I pushed all of her bu ons on purpose.

“I forgive you,” she says easily.

“How?”

She’s not so . She sits up straight with barriers hundreds of feet tall. “Because I know you’ll never forgive yourself,” she says. “Your guilt is punishment enough, don’t you think?”

Maybe. I don’t know. But I do think she knows me too well.

“Anyway, Daisy doesn’t even like Julian. She’s only with him because she’s too scared to dump him and hurt his feelings. We all have a right to dislike him if we collec vely know the rela onship is doomed.” She pauses. “But you and Lily—you two love each other. It’s not that di cult to put my feelings aside when I can see how happy you make her.”

Her honesty surprises me, and I know, in this moment, I have to reciprocate it. She deserves that at least.

“Regardless…” I say. I’m sorry, Rose. The words stay trapped in the back of my throat.

S ll, she nods in understanding. “As long as you keep my sister safe, we’ll be even.”

It’s not even a fair price to pay because I’d do that no ma er what. But I take it.

I’m about to turn around and head back up the stairs when she says, “I hope you know that I’m not mean to you because you’re a guy…” She lets out a deep, strained breath.

I overheard Connor yesterday trying to console Rose about the comments online. The ones that call her a misandrist. She was crying. I never thought she would take o ense to anything, but they chinked her iron wall. I gure the topic has been on her mind lately.

“It’s just…” she tries again. “…I don’t hate men.” Her shoulders ghten, probably at the thought of all the ridicule.

Rose has always been drama c—she threatens to castrate guys, to snip o their balls. It’s a part of her humor, but on air, it’s been taken the wrong way.

“I think you dislike types of people,” I tell her, “both men and women. The TV just shows parts of us. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

She nods, and a er a brief minute, she focuses back on the television. Our rare, honest moment ends just like that.

Thrive

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

LILY CALLOWAY

0 YEARS : 08 MONTHS

APRIL

LO FOUND the best way to s ck it to produc on: barricading ourselves in our bedroom. Sco wants footage of us; well, now he has none.

Seven days into our protest and cabin fever starts se ng in. I’m used to holing up in a house, but holing up in a room is quite di erent. For one, Lo and I have agreed that we’ll only sneak out for bathroom breaks.

We’re wai ng for Sco to apologize for all the mean things he’s said plus altering footage of us. It’s di erent than handing me porn and passing Lo a bo le of alcohol. He’s ac vely trying to turn our friends and family against us. That’s a new low.

However, I think it’s more likely that we’ll die from starva on up here. Our only source of food comes from my youngest sister, who smuggles us bagels and cookies whenever she’s home—which isn’t o en.

I’ll be back in 10 minutes. Taxi got lost. – Daisy

I groan as Lo does pushups on the oor. He had to skip the gym a few

mes this week, which helps take his mind o drinking and alleviates

stress. “We’re going to starve,” I tell him. “Maybe I can convince Connor to bring me a Pop-Tart.”

“No chance,” Lo says, his chest lowering to the ground. “I texted him to bring me a Fizz, and he started lecturing me about anatomy and how bipedal mobility works. All in a damn text. If I wasn’t so irritated, I would have been impressed.”

“Yeah, but Rose is my sister. He has to be nice to me.”

I quickly compose a text. Connor, I need food. I’m dying. SOS! I hit send.

Too bad Rose and Ryke have bonded together to denounce our protest. They think hiding out in a room, isola ng ourselves, will cause us to regress. But we’re not having any more sex than we usually do. Mostly, we’ve spent our me bingeing on Ne lix and reading comics online.

I ip open my laptop just as my phone pings.

The refrigerator is stocked. If you’ve lost mobility in your legs, Loren

can carry you downstairs. And you know how I feel about

hyperboles. – Connor

Ugh.

I close my phone. “He’s on Team RoRy. Mission aborted.” I sit on the edge of the bed, typing on my laptop, and Lo rolls onto his back to begin sit-ups.

“RoRy?” he ques ons with a grunt.

“Yeah, also known as evil siblings Rose and Ryke,” I tell him. “They needed a name.” I start scrolling through Tumblr’s #PoPhilly feed. Most of the comments are essay-long paragraphs detailing how they love the show.

Secretly, I just like looking at the gifs. Many people have created them from videos of Lo kissing and ir ng with me. We’ve been called OTP (one true pairing) so many mes that I literally have to stop myself from producing happy tears.

I never thought we’d make it into a fandom. It’s not something I sought, and now that it’s happening it feels more surreal than anything. I have to admit, I love this side of pop culture much more than the paparazzi. Maybe because Lo and I have always been fans at heart.

I click the #Caballoway tag and nd gifs of Connor’s arched eyebrow and Rose’s brutal stare in reply. I instantly smile.

“Are you on Twi er?” Lo asks as he blows out a heavy breath. He lowers his back to the ground and stops just before it touches the oor. When he rises, he gives me a look like we talked about Twi er. We did. It’s not a healthy place for me.

“Tumblr,” I reply, my voice small.

He freezes mid-sit-up. “Lily,” he says my name in warning. Tumblr is worse for me.

“I’m looking at chaste gifs,” I blurt out. “The kind with you and me kissing.”

“You can’t even watch us making out on TV without ge ng wet,” he reminds me and resumes his workout. “You shouldn’t be looking at gifs of it either.”

“I’m ge ng be er at it,” I admit truthfully.

“Okay,” he says, “but what happens if you stumble onto gifs of naked men and cocks. You’ve abstained from porn for so long, Lil. You don’t want to ruin that by accident.”

He’s so right. But I glance back at the computer screen and see a gif of Connor wrapping his arms around Rose’s waist, his eyes ligh ng up with desire, possession, and love. I’m so touched that we’re all a part of a fandom. It’s going to be so sad to abandon this. To never see it again.

“Lil.” Lo sits up, his arm on his bent knee. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll sit beside you and we can look at them together. I’ll cover your eyes if I see any penises. How’s that?”

I smile. “What if there are boobs? Can I cover your eyes?”

“Sure,” he says into a laugh as he lowers back to the ground. I log onto the Marvel website, a safe place, while he con nues his workout.

The door swings open a few minutes later, and Daisy stealthily glides inside on her skateboard…okay, not so stealthily, but it’s a pre y cool entrance.

And her appearance triggers a bright feeling, like Christmas morning. I rush her before she gets far. “What’d you bring?”

She grins, se ng a foot on the oor and leaving one on her board. “Your favorite.” She shakes a paper brown Lucky’s bag.

“You’re the best.” Between keeping our secret and smuggling in food, Daisy has shown her loyalty to Team LiLo (that’s what they call us online now).

Lo jumps up from the ground and takes the bag from Daisy. “Thanks, Dais.”

“Always happy to help,” she says, standing back on her skateboard. She rolls around the room. “I have to warn you though, Rose is giving me these dirty looks. I think she’s catching on that I’m sneaking in food.”

“Stay strong,” I encourage as Lo passes me a box of fries.

“She has those eyes, you know,” Daisy tells us. “They’re kind of scary.”

“That’s what it feels like to be turned to stone,” Lo says. He sits at the desk and unwraps a burger.

“LILY! LO!” Ryke yells from downstairs. “I’m coming up! You both be er be clothed!”

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Hide,” I hiss to Daisy. I don’t want her to get in real trouble from Rose or Ryke. We both glance at the bed at the same me, and Daisy lies on her skateboard and rolls underneath, out of sight.