Thrive

by Krista Ritchie

  “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 little bit of his hardness. Okay, a lot more than a little. 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 tight 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 stiff as well, his eyes flickering to me every so often.

  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 fine, but everyone knows why I’m separating 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 film, the front door opens. I crane my head over the couch to see Daisy strutting in with a can of Fizz Life in hand, head down, texting on her cell.

  When she steps into the room, she looks up and freezes. “Um…” She frowns. “Was there a meeting or something?” Her face suddenly falls, thinking she wasn’t invited to our group gathering.

  “Or something,” Ryke replies first.

  Daisy scans the area. Her eyes ping from Lo to me, noticing how we’re not sitting together. “Did you two…” She motions between us.

  Shit. She thinks we spilled our secret.

  “I fucked up,” I explain swiftly. “I replied to a reporter without going through the publicist.”

  Her green eyes turn into saucers. “Mom has to be pissed.”

  “She’s venting,” Rose corrects her. “She just needs to cool off.”

  Daisy sets her soda can on the end table and plops down on the other side of me. “What are we watching?”

  Connor starts listing off names of movies, and I tune him out. I appreciate that they’re all trying to avoid the Celebrity Crush topic, but it still 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 matter?

  My eyes flit 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 different ways, conflicted beyond terms.

  I follow his moves and redirect my attention to the movie. But my head revolves around him, and I find myself trying to watch him through my peripheral vision. Maybe I can catch him looking at me. I notice everything. How rigid he sits. When he squirms or adjusts himself on the chair. How he keeps his hand on his mouth, resting it there and hiding the definition in his jaw. I notice the way he glances at me every few seconds, the same clandestine 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 hesitation, I crawl onto his lap, and his hands instinctively pull me higher and closer, meshing our bodies together. Our limbs entangle until 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 beating so fast. His fingers tightly 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 continue on again?

  Are we the accumulation of our mistakes?

  A part of me regrettably thinks so.

  My failures have defined me more than my triumphs.

  But I don’t want to live in that hopeless reality. Not anymore. I want to be the accumulation 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 defined by so many factors that it’s too complicated for any mathematician to piece apart.

  That would be the perfect life.

  Not good or bad.

  Just complex.

  { 19 }

  0 years : 06 months

  February

  LILY CALLOWAY

  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 five-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 antics. 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 potted 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 filmed every day, and they’ll play footage from the previous week.” Oh. There’ll be a small delay then, almost live. Most shows are filmed months in advance, and the shooting wraps before the first episode ever airs.

  But we’re still filming 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 gesticulating 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 off Lo though and slide my hands across his abs. Maybe later, I think as I chew my meatball.

  “I know I don’t fit into this.” Lo motions towards the ballroom and the fancy decorations: gold-leafed lilies, daisies and roses as high-table centerpieces. “But you stick 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 attended Fizzle’s soda unveiling with me about a year ago. It was just as glamorous.
<
br />   “You look kind of angry,” I add and scrunch my nose to illustrate.

  Ryke frowns. “Are you constipated?”

  “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 time.

  “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 affection than dry humor. “I guess we’ll find out how well people like you after 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 time. “Jesus Christ.”

  “I’ve been lifting weights, remember?” I flex to show him my bicep muscle (still tiny, but a bigger tiny than before). The cameras go wild behind me, flashing crazily, and I immediately drop my arm and roast.

  “You mean that dinky weight that Ryke bought you?” Lo asks.

  Ryke no longer pays attention to us. He focuses on Daisy across the room, who’s being chatted 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 sufficiently 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.

  Definitely 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 little for Fizzle’s reputation. But we’re all here and participating 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 swiftly steals it from my hands.

  He has quick reflexes.

  And then the countdown appears on all the television screens. The boisterous talk dies to soft murmurs.

  “I can’t look,” I whisper, my hands flying to my face. Lo keeps his arm around my shoulders. Five seconds.

  “No matter 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 insatiable fool.

  { 20 }

  0 years : 06 months

  February

  LOREN HALE

  As the reality show continues, I’m more and more surprised that they’re focusing on the romance aspect of my relationship with Lily, not just making out, but real stuff 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 counting on it to last the whole hour.

  “You sure you want to stay for the rest?” I ask Lily who holds my hand.

  “Positive,” she says, taking a deep breath.

  “Okay.”

  Not long after, 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 stuffs a pillow in her face.

  The bottom of my stomach falls.

  I didn’t realize…it’s been that hard for her while I’m at my office 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 fingers 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 tightens—my muscles on fire. I speak quickly, words gushing out of me. “You did fine, 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 flushes when she notices 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 tightly 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 different when it actually happens.

  When you feel the unrelenting 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 exaggeration. 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 sniffs loudly but she can’t form words. She hiccups, and I rub her back. Her body relaxes into mine.

  “Stay strong,” Ryke says, patting 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 Scott edited. Lily stays buried beneath my shirt, and she clings tighter when they switch to a series of interview questions cut together.

  “Do you think Daisy is as sexually active as Lily?” Savannah asks me, Ryke, and Connor the same question but at different times.

  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 question is that?” Ryke asks. He rises and throws a pillow.

  “No, she’s not,” Connor says, with more force than usual. He stands and buttons his suit jacket. “That’s enough for the day.”

  Daisy, who was texting on the g
round, 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 tilt my head towards him. “You wanna go after her?” Daisy terrifies 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 intentions 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 still 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 portion of the show, where it focuses on the fake love triangle between Scott, Rose, and Connor. When Lily unburies herself from her hiding place—my shirt—I wipe away her remaining tears.

  She sniffs and holds onto my belt loops. “That was bad.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “They didn’t even show me flipping off 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.