Addicted for Now (Addicted Series 2)

by Ritchie, Krista

  Like how she couldn’t wait until the night. How, after an hour, I had to pry myself off her to stop. She was satisfied, but with Lily, it’s a momentary fulfillment. It leaves the second she wishes to feel a climax again. I wanted to fuck her as much as she wanted to be fucked, but I had to watch her face crumble as she realized that was it.

  For the first time, I’m looking at the bigger picture—the future—but Christ, no one ever mentioned how I’d have to endure preliminary pain to get there.

  “You had sex a few days ago,” Allison repeats. “What exactly happened?”

  “I put my penis in her vagina.” Embarrassment and remorse swim with the black tar in my chest. My filter—it’s permanently on the fritz. I think my father must have busted it one night. But not with his fists. He’s too civilized for that.

  Lily lets out a laugh, which makes me feel a little better.

  “Not anatomically,” Allison clarifies. “Did you only have missionary? How long did it last? What time of day? And how did it end? What were your feelings afterwards?”

  So many fucking questions, but I take them one at a time. “Only missionary. It was about seven o’clock.”

  Lily immediately reddens at the time of day.

  My eyes narrow, knowing full well that I just got caught by Lil’s ability to turn into a cherry.

  “It’s best if you don’t lie,” Allison tells me.

  “It was around three,” I say with a shrug. “She couldn’t wait until later, but she did hold out until we got home.”

  Allison nods. “That’s really good, Lily.”

  She brightens a little at the compliment, and I squeeze her shoulder, realizing that my words don’t hold the same power as her therapist. To hear a professional say, “You’re doing good,” must be a relief.

  I wouldn’t know, really. Even though I learned a lot, most of the people at rehab wanted me out of there. And my therapist stares at me like I’m a world-class fuck up. And Ryke—well, compliments from him aren’t worth much. He’s trying to make amends for being absent in my life, for leaving me alone with a father that he knew ranked low on the World’s Best Dad chart.

  “And what happened afterwards?” Allison asks.

  “I pulled away from her,” I say, “but she tried to keep going. I ended up just holding her in my arms until she fell asleep.”

  The brief happiness in Lily’s eyes begins to flicker out, replaced by silent humiliation once more.

  “You didn’t fall asleep with her?”

  I frown. “What does it matter if I did or didn’t?” I don’t understand how this pertains to Lily. I shift on my seat, and Lily turns her attention to me. I don’t like that at all.

  “You have a problem too,” Allison says, “and your addiction will affect her. It already has.”

  I cut her off. “I get it. I should stay away from her. I should say goodbye and let her have a fighting chance.”

  Lily’s eyes widen, and she clenches my shirt between pallid fingers.

  Even thinking about letting her go puts a pain so deep in my gut. No one knows me like Lily Calloway. She’s my best friend, and without her—God, what’s the point?

  “No,” Allison says flatly. “I was going to say that I’m here for you too, Lo. Your recovery is congruent with Lily’s. In order for her to be healthy, you need to be as well.” She pauses, glancing only once at her notebook. “I don’t think separation is the right action here. Without a monogamous relationship, Lily may fall back into her old routine, and it’s best to strengthen the one that’s already in place, not destroy it.”

  I nod, her words slowly sinking in. I wait for the relief, but it barely hits me. I think all my happiness is buried beneath the torment of what’s to come.

  “So,” she begins again, “why didn’t you fall asleep with her?”

  I lick my lips, more willing to clear my thoughts now that I know she’s on our side. “Sleep has been really difficult for me lately. It takes me longer than Lily.” My leg jostles a little, and Lily is the one to press her hand to my knee, to give me much needed comfort, even though I’d rather be her rock right now. “Every night for years,” I say, “I’d drink until I passed out. Alcohol—that was my sleeping pill.” It was the very thing that stopped my restless thoughts and tucked me into bed. Without it, I’m constantly exhausted.

  Allison asks me why that is, and I explain my alcohol dependency. Though I give her brief details, not wanting to focus the whole session on me. So I’m glad when Allison directs her next question to Lil.

  “How did it make you feel when he told you to stop?”

  A long pause strains the air.

  Lily is weighing the truth with a lie. It’s what we do. We construct a pleasant story to mask the pain, to soften the hurt. We’re both so good at it that sometimes we even begin to believe the lies. I am terrified to travel down that road again, but it’s an easy one to take.

  She opens her mouth and then closes it, unsure.

  “It’s okay,” I prod. Even if the truth is ugly and cold, I want to hear it. I’m ready for us to lay everything out until we’re completely bare and exposed. I don’t know how else to make this work.

  Allison rewords the question, softening its existence. “It won’t be the first or last time he’s going to tell you to stop. Now is a good time to talk about your reaction to the situation. So how did it make you feel, Lily?”

  She only hesitates a second. “Not good.” Her eyes land on her knees, and her shoulders curve forward. She looks small and sad and very, very heartbroken.

  A wave of emotions slams into me, and I have trouble picking each one apart.

  “And I just…” she stammers. “…I don’t want to be that girl. The one who begs for something she knows she can’t get. It’s like I’m asking a boy I like on a date and he says no, but I don’t listen, and I just keep asking and asking like the answer will be different. I feel…pathetic.”

  I don’t ever want to make her feel like that.

  “You’re not pathetic, Lil,” I manage to say, my throat swollen. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. I want to take her pain away, but the irony is that I’ve caused it.

  “I think, Lily,” Allison says, “you’re going to have to start understanding that when Lo tells you to stop, it’s not rejection. It’s a form of love. I know that’s hard to grasp, especially since you both have done things completely opposite.”

  Lily lets out a short nod. It won’t be easy for her to just believe Dr. Banning’s advice. I have the same problem. Our brains are wired a little differently than everyone else. But I’m willing to ride out this rollercoaster with her—until we’re both free from misery.

  “Now let’s talk about your restrictions and the letter I sent home with you,” Allison says.

  “We call it the blacklist,” Lily tells her. “But I didn’t read it. I gave it to my sister to give to Lo, and we agreed that it’s better if I don’t know. Now…I’m kind of starting to regret that.” She turns to me. “Do you think I should read it?”

  Allison beats me to it. “Actually, Lily, I think it’s a great idea that you haven’t read it. It shows support on Lo’s end and trust on yours. It also gives you a chance to relax about limitations.”

  “How am I supposed to relax when all I can think about is what’s been blacklisted?”

  “If you do read it, wouldn’t you still be thinking about what sexual activities have been banned?”

  Lily’s face falls. “I guess.”

  “Why don’t you try this way for a while then,” Allison suggests. She looks to her clock. “The last thing I want to discuss are fears. This relationship is new for the both of you, and I think it would be helpful if you told each other one of your fears by it.”

  Lily’s lips snap closed, so I take the opportunity to go first. For her.

  “Well…” I say and quickly realize I haven’t thought this through. My fears? I have plenty. Lily cheating. Me, drinking. Both of us fucking up u
ntil we can’t see straight. “I’m scared that…”

  Lily turns to face me, and I am lost for a minute in her eyes. I suddenly realize that I’m scared of everything. Of losing the only girl I’ve ever loved. Of having her secret voiced to the whole world and watching her disintegrate from the repercussions. She’s already so small and fragile, something like that will kill her, I think.

  But Lily and I made a decision not to tell Allison about the threatening texts. It’s too dangerous when we don’t know who’s sending them. And partly, the situation feels new and raw, and talking about it is like pressing on an infected wound.

  “Lo,” Allison urges at my silence.

  “I’m scared,” I start again, “that there’s going to be a point where you become angry and bitter and resentful every time I tell you to stop, that you realize someone else can give you what you want.”

  Lily’s head whips from side to side, like I’m so wrong. That kind of reaction feels good.

  “No one else could ever give me what I want,” she breathes. “I only want you.”

  I hold onto the words, even if we both know they’re not completely true. She wants to fuck. She wants the high of a climax the same way I want to drown in a bottle of bourbon. I want the rush, the flush and the ride to purgatory and back. We are not each other’s first wants and needs. I am second to her. And she is second to me.

  I want that to change.

  I take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but she doesn’t smile because she knows it’s her turn.

  “Lily?” Allison asks.

  Lil keeps her eyes on me, and I give her an encouraging smile. “I’m scared,” she says, “that you’re going to hate being on some sort of sex schedule and hate being barred from your own pleasure. It’s not fair to you, and you’ll find someone who will make you feel better than I can.”

  My mouth opens in surprise. I didn’t ever think she was worried about that. I didn’t even believe it could be an option. I love her beyond the great sex. “Lil—”

  She interjects quickly, throwing up her hands. “What if I can’t ever give you a blow job?” she asks, a little hysterical now. “I mean, what if that’s on the blacklist? That’s not right, Lo! You have needs too!”

  I’m grinning and trying so hard not to laugh. It’s probably shitty that my smile has spread to new proportions, but I can’t help it. Not when she’s freaking out over this.

  “This isn’t funny!” she shouts, but her lips start to rise, mimicking mine. “Stop. I’m being serious.”

  “I’m sorry.” I can’t even pretend to sound apologetic, nor can I stop smiling. “It’s just cute.” She blushes, and it only makes me want to gather her in my arms and cage her against the couch. To take her right there. She would love that.

  “Okay, well…I’m giving you a blow job after this then,” she demands.

  That almost gets me hard. I have to think about something else. Like the fact that Allison is sitting right here. “How about I let you know when I want one,” I rephrase. I’ve read the blacklist, and while it doesn’t exclude blow jobs, it does have certain stipulations. In fact, I think Lily would be genuinely surprised by what it actually says.

  Lil narrows her eyes. “You’re just going to keep telling me later until later becomes a year.”

  “Within the week,” I say, my eyes lighting up. Only with my girlfriend do I have to basically negotiate her out of giving me head.

  Her forehead wrinkles, like it does when she’s thinking hard. After a moment, she looks to me and nods. “Deal.”

  Allison pipes in. “That’s good, really good. You two are communicating very well with each other and letting your voices be heard. What I want you both to work on is getting your sex lives to a point where they don’t interfere with relationships, school, jobs, or even daily activities. I know in the past you two had a very active sexual routine.”

  Active doesn’t describe what we were doing. When we both were in the lowest of the low, we rarely even left the bedroom. It was an all-consuming affair. Waking up. Drinking. Fucking. Sleeping. Occasionally eating. It was both the best and worst time of my life.

  “I think you’re each ready to make a change,” Allison continues. “And that begins now.”

  { 13 }

  LILY CALLOWAY

  After my Stats exam, I get another inflammatory text. This time Unknown has become a little more creative and called me a tramp and a cocksucker. It’s a little ironic that I just begged Lo in therapy to let me give him head. But other than that, these texts are starting to unravel me. Whoever said that sticks and stones will break bones but words never hurt have obviously never been teased or insulted.

  We’re meeting Connor today to talk about the private investigator’s discoveries. I planned to bring up the new messages with Lo and Connor, but after the Mason incident in the parking deck, I don’t think revealing my texts will do anything other than enrage Lo. And I don’t want him to Hulk Smash anything or drive him to drink. Hopefully Connor has a better lead on the guy and we can figure out what he wants.

  I throw my backpack onto my bed and rush to the bathroom, needing to at least fix my hair before we leave. When I swing the door open, I find Lo by the sink, twisting the cap onto a pill bottle. It must be Antabuse. He told me he was taking meds that will make him sick if he drinks alcohol. I’m more proud of him than he knows.

  “You ready?” I ask, trying not to make the pills a big deal. I look into the mirror and nearly die at my hair. I pulled an all-nighter to memorize those old exam questions. Taking a shower dropped on my priority list. My hair is greasy and flat and looks kind of gross.

  “Just about.” Lo opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a stick of deodorant. I make a bold decision and turn on the sink faucet. Then I lean over the marble edge, trying my best to stick my head in the basin and underneath the surge of water.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Lo asks as he simultaneously rolls the stick under his armpits. He’s shirtless, and I really can’t stare too long.

  “Washing my hair,” I tell him. I pull some wet strands through my fingers, and I’m about to squirt some hand soap into my palm.

  “That’s not shampoo,” Lo says quickly.

  “What are you, the soap police? It’ll work.” I reach for the bottle again.

  “Wait,” he says. I lift my head up a bit and move some sopping strands out of my face. He fumbles around in the shower and then closes the glass door on his way out, a bottle of Herbal Essence in his clutch. I hold out my hand while twisting my neck to avoid dripping all over the counter.

  “You’re going to create a tsunami in here,” he says, pushing me back to the sink. My stomach hits the edge of the counter, and I bend again, losing sight to my wall of hair. Then I feel his hands on my head, rubbing the shampoo into my scalp. Oh.

  This feels nice.

  His fingers knead in and out, running up and down, and even pressing against the back of my neck. I never thought that a head massage could feel so damn good.

  I stifle a moan, but the pleasured noise escapes as soon as he closes the space between us. His body melds right up against my ass. We haven’t done anything except missionary since he returned from rehab, and I’m starting to become paranoid that anal is on that blacklist. I want it. Right now, I think. I’m probably in the minority of girls who enjoy that position. But I like the tightness. It’s a different kind of climax, and I can’t deny how much I want it to happen.

  “Lo.” My voice comes out hoarse and wanting.

  He scoots back from me, air replacing his body. The rejection hurts, but I try to remember what we talked about in therapy. I have to get a grip.

  “How was your exam?” Lo asks, probably trying to distract me.

  “Not bad.” I have yet to come clean about Sebastian supplying me with old exams. I don’t think Lo would care that I’m semi-cheating, but I don’t think he’d approve that Sebastian is embedding me in his scheming ways either. It’s better to avoid that conversa
tion.

  “So Sebastian is actually helping?” he asks in disbelief. He returns his body right behind me again, and the pressure on my ass ignites wild thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I mumble. I can’t ask him for sex. He’ll say no. I have to try and relax so he doesn’t move away, so I can revel in the fact that this—him behind me—feels too good for words. I have to believe that this is enough…that I don’t need more.

  “So you think you passed?”

  “Ummm…” Focus. “I think I made an A.”

  He stops massaging my head, but he doesn’t move his body off mine. “Did you cheat?”

  “What?” I squeak. I’m about to lift my head, but he puts a hand on my back and pushes me down so I don’t drip water all over the floor.

  “You did. You cheated.” His shock outweighs all other sentiments.

  “I did not!” I defend.

  “Hold on.” Lo grabs a cup and fills it with water. “Close your eyes.”

  I shut them tight as he starts washing away the shampoo suds, thick tension filling between us. It doesn’t help that his frontal area is now grinding up against my ass.

  “So what did he want in exchange for helping you cheat?” Lo asks.

  I barely process this question. I’m a terrible multi-tasker, and right now I juggle my nefarious thoughts with rubbing soap from my eyes. There is no room to answer him properly. “Hmm?” I spread my legs apart, not enough that he’ll notice.

  At least, I didn’t think he would.

  He hooks my ankle with his foot and pins my legs back together like it’s nothing, like this is our new routine. “Sebastian would want something in return,” Lo says, his voice roughening as he pictures a not-so innocent bargain.

  “He’s not helping me cheat,” I say again. He pours more water over my head, and I spit out a mouthful of soap.

  “Sorry, love.” His sweetness lasts only a second when I open my legs again and he pushes them together. “If he didn’t help you cheat, what did he do?” Lo pauses as he wrings out my hair. “You do realize that having someone else take the exam for you constitutes as cheating.”