“Shut up, Loren.”
“You’re a terrible blonde though.”
She actually flips me off.
I probably deserved that one.
Connor hasn’t said a word, but I read the expression on his face really well this time. 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 beautiful.” The sincerity is clear in his voice.
Her shoulders drop, caught off guard.
Lily approaches me and holds my hand about the same time 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 still exists. It’s still 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 fighting. 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 first 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 starting to gather around the bathroom.” Her eyes meet mine. “They’re waiting 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 fire.
* * *
“For Christ’s sake, give her space,” I say, trying not to touch Rose. She’s having a hard time 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 waiting in line for the panel with Poppy and Sam.
No one noticed Lily dressed as Catwoman.
“Are you in love with Loren or Ryke?” people keep asking. Through my visor, everyone and everything is tinted red.
Rose surprisingly keeps quiet. She must be literally biting her tongue to stop from lashing out.
“Are you in a fight?” 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 times in my entire 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 rocketing 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 find 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 tightly 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 button 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 first 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 backflip,” 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 first.” 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 times, as though it just now registers in his brain who she is, along with her boyfriend’s identity. “I’m just fucking surprised. Give me a minute to process this.”
Rose fixes 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 off to anyway?”
“Outside,” she tells her. “I just needed some fresh air.” The elevator abruptly stops on our floor, and Daisy almost topples over, teetering on one leg. Without asking, Ryke swiftly lifts Daisy back in his arms. A smile spreads across her face.
I internally shake my head. Then my phone buzzes in my belt, distracting me. I take it out.
This is the second best day of my life. The director just accidentally touched my pinky finger!!!! – 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 first 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 drift away.
It’s okay.
I’m going to make new best days with Lily Calloway.
I can feel it.
{ 9 }
0 years : 03 months
November
LILY CALLOWAY
Our annual Thanksgiving tradition 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 eating with our families, but I haven’t been back in three months: my twenty-first birthday when the manager refused to close the blinds.
Last Thanksgiving, the only people who knew about my sex addiction 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 addiction 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 off my chest when we take a break before coffee and dessert.
“Are we having a sister powwow?” Daisy asks as she j
umps 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 hurting my butt. 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 flinches back in surprise. “Of course not.”
I try to adjust on the chair. Nope, the spring is definitely going to bruise my ass after 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 little—” Poppy tries to justify.
“Devils. They’re little devils that only exist to annoy me.”
She’s too dramatic 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 flaw 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 confirmation since I’m the closest to Rose.
I hold up my hands. “I know nothing.” I wait for someone to mention 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 still 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 eating 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 explanation.
“Yeah,” Daisy says, “but I thought you were just waiting until marriage.”
Rose pauses in the middle of the floor. “I’m waiting until 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 cheating at a game,” she says. “It’s too easy for him.”
Their weird relationship 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 addiction ruined her fashion line. There is no forgiveness for me, and I don’t want it.
She continues on, “I’ve been struggling with serious solutions, but recently, someone made an offer 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 proclamation.
“You’re insane,” Poppy says first.
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 off, 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 better, right? If it’ll help my sister, I won’t ever say no.
I put her in this position 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 expecting a fight. “Really? You can take more time to think about it, Lily. It’ll be a big change.”
A big change. I hate those. But sometimes change can be good, right? That’s what my therapist tells me. “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t need more time. 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 contemplation. She lets out a long sigh. “Why can’t the show just be about you, Rose?” she asks.
“The production 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 drastic, and I’m concerned about Lily’s safety.”
“I would never intentionally 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 scrutiny, 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 questioning. “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 attention will finally be positive.” She pauses to take a much needed breath. “So yes, Poppy, I’m willing to put our family under more scrutiny. For Fizzle. For Lily. And selfishly, for my fashion line.”
Poppy relaxes a little more, and she fixes her brown hair off 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 h
er 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 affected 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 volatile 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 crossfire this time.
{ 10 }
0 years : 04 months
December
LOREN HALE
“Stop calling,” I say with edge into the flip phone. Lily sits on the kitchen counter, eating peanut butter from a jar. My gaze lingers on her, especially as she sucks her index finger and lifts her thin legs to her chest.
My breathing deepens for a second, honing in on the way she licks the peanut butter off. 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 fit right up against her. I wait, only to watch her longer. She pops her finger out of her mouth, her eyes radiating with eagerness when they meet mine. It’s a come hither that I return, edging closer. But instead of acting on her feelings, she tries to focus on the peanut butter.
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 motion 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 butter. Goddamn. My dick screams at me to respond to that noise. I resist, only because one of the biggest pains in my ass is still on the phone.
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