Addicted for Now (Addicted Series 2)

by Ritchie, Krista

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

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

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

  Rose points a manicured finger at his chest. “You can’t discount an entire word just because you don’t think it has merit, Richard.” Ooh, she used his real first name. “You’re basically saying Foucault’s entire sociological studies were worthless.”

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

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

  “Foucault,” Rose corrects him.

  “What?”

  “It’s Foucault. Not Faulkner.”

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

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

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

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

  I could mumble some lame excuse to leave the meeting, but my throat tightens and guilt festers, even though I haven’t taken a step towards my bedroom yet. Planning out the events makes me feel like a failure. Why is that?

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

  “Thanks.”

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

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

  He can see straight through me.

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

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

  “No one,” he says calmly.

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

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

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

  Penn kicked Lo out after he stopped showing up to class, and he could have attended another college, but he decided to go to rehab and work on getting sober instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “It’s unknown.”

  “So?”

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

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

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

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

  Ryke rolls his eyes and grips his water bottle tighter. I guess that article won’t be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Rose smiles into her last sip of tea.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I tell Connor.

  “I prefer favors.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “She can have some sex,” Lo clarifies, apparently un-complicating it.

  I want to disintegrate just a little.

  “What is some sex?” Ryke asks.

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

  “I can’t talk about it,” Lo says evasively. But really he means: I can’t talk about it in front of Lily. Because I have no idea what “some” entails either. It’s going to drive me bonkers.
>
  I also don’t like that Lo is so quick to share intimate details of our private lives, but I guess he’s trying to be better about opening up. And it must be easier to focus on my addiction than his own.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  It sounds so much better than it should.

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

  “I’ll be able to tell,” Ryke says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “He may as well have,” Ryke retorts.

  Okay, when did this meeting become a platform to gang up on Connor?

  “Just drop it,” Lo snaps.

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

  And unfortunately, she remembers the source of our argument.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I promise.”

  She looks a little taken aback by how easily he relented.

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

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

  { 4 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

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

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

  His gaze rises from his journal, and he studies me as I stand in the middle of the room, unsure about what to do. Back at Penn, after we became an official couple, I slept in his bed almost every night. But we didn’t cuddle. He didn’t whisper sweet-nothings in my ear until I dozed off. We fucked until I passed out, and then he’d finish off his drink and follow suit.

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

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

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

  “No, love, not tonight.”

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

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

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

  No porn.

  No masturbation.

  Less compulsivity during sex.

  And never, ever cheat on Loren Hale.

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

  “I can be very persuasive,” I mutter.

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

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

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

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

  “Lily—”

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

  “Lil—”

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

  He touches my cheeks and I flinch back instantly.

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

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

  “Did you get a superpower in rehab?” I ask in a small voice, already knowing the truth. I freaked out to a new degree, not even noticing him climb off the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

  “I like that better,” I mumble. We stay still for a little while, and I let him rub the back of my head until my pulse eases to a temperate rhythm. Why does something so small, like sleeping in a bed, have to be such a challenge?

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

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

  “No cuddling?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “That’s my line.”

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