Then the door swings open again.
And both Lily and I look to Daisy. Her loyalty to us is about to be tested.
{ 11 }
0 years : 04 months
December
LILY CALLOWAY
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 bottle. “It was his hot tub, and he graduated in May, same as me.”
Ryke must have had a not-so fun time at his friend’s party. His stormy expression says it all. The irony: Lo and I were having a pretty 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 participant in my fantasy hot tub.
I don’t answer her, but I do, however, catch Ryke’s muscles flexing 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 deflects.
Ryke sinks down in the open chair, his harsh gaze still on Daisy. “You want to know why I left 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 off,” 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, little brother?”
Lo lets out a short laugh and grips the armrests too tightly, 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 definitely don’t curse as well as you.” I hear what’s beneath his words: My life is pretty much a losing battle. Cold washes over me. I glance at Ryke—his arms have chill bumps. “I’m just saying,” Lo finishes, “that you’re an asshole.”
On instinct, 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 field. 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 lifted him to his feet. I think, sometimes, we have more faith in each other than we do in ourselves.
Daisy shifts on the couch for the third or fourth time, 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 bottle of champagne, toast to the New Year, then switch to whiskey.” He tops it off with that now literally famous dry smile. Celebrity Crush even ranked his bitter 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 apocalyptic, but he drove everyone to a haunted house in northern Pennsylvania.
He was a pirate.
A sarcastic 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 fantastic 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 filled 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, lifting me higher on his lap so our chests touch. It just happened out of the blue.
Flirting should be full of fearless advances like this.
Somewhere in our timeline 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 attention 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 offers a very small portion 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 shitty thing for Connor to do to you.”
Lo lets his words sink in, and my stomach flips 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 contemplation, 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, pelting 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 shoul
d 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 ammunition she has against us. Lo and I had sex in the kitchen. That’s definitely something she can fling at Ryke to take the heat off her situation.
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 agitation. 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 notices 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 emotion, Dais. I did.”
Daisy shifts again like she can’t get comfortable. She smashes a pillow on her lap, and I hold my breath, expecting 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 off her boots, a little more fidgety 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 proposition 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 often 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 time, and we’re just brothers.”
“So I’m like your sister then?” she asks.
Good question, I think, shoveling more popcorn in my mouth.
His face darkens. “No.”
“Then what am I?”
“My fucking friend.” His eyebrows rise. “Any more questions?”
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 twisting the button in the pillow.
“Thanks,” Lo whispers to her, “for not ratting us out.”
“Even though you ratted me out,” she finishes. She’s too smart for us.
His eyes narrow. “That’s different.”
“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 off the cushion before sitting next to her.
Lo kisses my cheek, tearing my gaze off them and onto him. I like this view better.
I smile. “Do you think Rose is swiping her V-card tonight?”
“Most definitely.”
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 flirting with me. Your definition is wrong.”
That is one-hundred percent Rose’s fierce voice.
“What the hell?” Lo says. He finds 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 five-inch winter booties, a black cocktail dress, and white fur coat. “To flirt,” Connor recites, “to behave in a way that shows sexual attraction. You can take my definition or we can consult Merriam-Webster, though mine is more accurate.”
I whisper under my breath to Lo, “I think Rose is still a virgin.”
“Good call.”
“I’m so good at picking up signs,” Rose retorts, still in a verbal battle with Connor. “I know when someone is flirting with me, Richard.”
He shuts the door, hardly upset by whatever happened. He wears only amusement in his deep blue eyes the longer Rose huffs and puffs like a wolf ready to blow down a pig’s house. And then he speaks in fluent French, so effortlessly that the words sound like golden honey off 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 question. Before the sorting hat even touched their heads, it’d scream Ravenclaw!
“Luna Lovegood is pretty 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 time 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 difference,” 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 little sister just as quickly and walks around the couch to approach, Connor by her side. “What are you two doing here?”
“Both of our parties fucking sucked,” Ryke answers. And I realize how quickly he was able to move a spotlight off 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 left the party without coming here.” He gives Connor a look like what the fuck happened?
“We’re no longer welcome at that particular hotel…for eternity. Those were the manager’s exact words.” Connor loosens his bowtie. “I don’t blame him for thinking we’re immortal. In some preclassic civilizations, I’d be considered a god.”
Rose’s yellow-green eyes drill holes into him. “Congratulations, you are officially 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 floating. I kiss him on the lips, so suddenly that I think he’s caught off guard too.
Rose holds her hand at him like stay ou
t of it.
Lo doesn’t care. His eyes fix on me with questioning 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 still grins at her and speaks French. Damn. I flip 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 capabilities that translates by sound, no manual typing involved.
I consider snatching Lo’s phone, but one of my hands is still in the popcorn bag.
Thankfully, Rose uses English. “The manger was exaggerating.”
“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 realization, 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 instinct triggers and I drink it anyway.
Rose. She found a way to dodge Connor’s suite without cheating on him or putting him in an uncomfortable position. 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 bottle 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 conversation 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 times I have to tell you for you to believe it.”
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