“I think about her all the time.”
Scott’s voice echoes through the ballroom, causing us to break apart and turn to the screens.
Scott wears a longing smile. “She’s a firestorm that I won’t ever smother. I’m the one who inflames her, who riles her to a new confounding degree. She’s my perfect match.”
That sounds like something Connor would say. Right beside Rose, Connor actually pales, his lips parted in shock.
“I hate this guy,” Ryke says softly.
“You want to do something about it?” I hope he’s reached the point I have—ready to fight back, something more than just saying fuck off.
Ryke inhales deeply. “What can we do? We signed a fucking contract.”
“Plenty,” I retort.
“Don’t go down that road again, Lo. You need to bury those demons.”
I thought I’d never attack a guy after I apologized to Aaron Wells and shut the door on that feud. But isn’t this different?
Scott is waiting for us to explode. For ratings. He won’t stop until the show does. And Lily and I care too much about Rose to do that to her company. So Princesses of Philly has to continue.
Ending it isn’t an option.
“I’m still in love with her,” Scott says. “And I can’t help what I feel, but it’s there. I love Rose the way she deserves to be loved. I just…I just don’t see Connor being the best thing for her. He’s too self-absorbed to care for that girl the way I do. And I hope, over the course of living with her again, she’ll realize that we’re meant to be.”
My blood boils at each word. I shake my head and look to my brother. “The things we bury,” I say under my breath, “have a way of coming back to haunt us.”
Ryke can try to bury his problems.
I’m going to face mine.
Connor sits in the study room for an interview.
“What do you think of Scott?” Savannah asks.
“I find him comparable to a little teenager jimmying the lock of my house. He’s nothing more than a petty thief, trying to take what’s mine. Is that honest enough for you?”
“And what about Rose?”
“What about Rose?”
I frown. He said her name like she means nothing to him.
“Do you love her?” Savannah asks.
“Love is irrelative to some.”
“And is it to you?”
His fingers rest on his jaw in mock contemplation, and he smiles self-confidently. For the first time, his smile really rubs me wrong. “Yes,” he says. “Love holds no meaning in my life.”
What…the fuck.
The screens fade to black. That was it.
So many thoughts toss around my head while everyone claps. People start talking and heading to the bar for more drinks.
Ryke and I face Connor. I never thought production would’ve turned the seemingly nicest guy into the evilest. But they definitely did.
Rose plucks another champagne glass from a server’s tray and relaxes her back against Connor’s chest. He holds her in place since she’s buzzed. I can’t believe she’s okay with everything he just said in the show.
“So was that the real Connor Cobalt?” I ask, sliding my arm around Lily’s shoulders. Some of the scenes could’ve been fabricated by editing, but how much?
I hear my brother’s warning, about Connor not being open enough with me. I never thought he had a similar relationship with Rose, but she puts herself out there and he’s not even willing to admit that he loves her.
“I spoke honestly,” he says. “And that wasn’t the first time I’ve done so.”
“So you’ve never loved anyone?” I question. “Not another girlfriend, your mom, your dad or a friend?” I don’t want our relationship to be a game. I knew, in the beginning, that he was just collecting me like he did everyone else. He was upfront about it, which was why I liked him. I had money and connections, so that’s why he befriended me. But I thought we’d grown beyond that. Hadn’t we?
“No,” he says. “I’ve never loved anyone, Lo. I’m sorry.”
Rose points at me, her glass of champagne in hand. “Let it go, Loren. I have.”
“Why?” I snap. “Because you’re both cold androids?”
Her glare is softened by the booze. “It’s just how he is. If you even understood half of Connor Cobalt’s beliefs, your head would spin.”
“Rose,” Connor says, as though telling her to drop it.
I’ve never seen her give so much of herself to one person, and I fear, badly, that she’s being manipulated by him. Maybe, all this time, I have been too.
Rose still defends her boyfriend. “No, Connor has done nothing wrong.”
“He doesn’t love you,” I sneer. “He’s been with you for over a year, Rose.” He’s going to hurt her. A girl who never lets anyone get that far is letting the wrong person in. Why am I the only one who sees this?
“Lo,” Lily warns.
“No,” I say, “she needs to fucking hear this.” I point at Connor but speak to Rose. “What the hell kind of guy stays with a girl for that amount of time without anything in return? If he doesn’t love you, then he’s just waiting to fuck you.”
Connor stays calm. And this time, it really fucking irritates me. “She doesn’t need your protection,” he tells me. Rose sways in his arms, tipsy. “She knows who I am.”
“So you’re okay with that then?” I ask Rose. “He’s going to fuck you, and then he’s going to be out of here. Does that make you feel good, Rose? You’ve waited twenty-three goddamn years to lose it, and you’re going to give it to a guy who can’t even fucking admit that he loves you.”
He’s a coward. A guy that I thought was the best goddamn person in the world—is nothing but a fake.
Connor says, “I’m not going to admit something that I don’t feel.” I have a retort ready, but he beats me to it. “Would you like me to sit you down and fill your head with numbers and facts and relativities? You can’t stomach what I have to say because you won’t understand it, and I know that hurts you. But there’s nothing I can do to change the way things are. I am a product of a mother as brick-walled as me, and trust me when I say that you won’t ever see more than I give you. In order to be my friend, that has to be enough, Lo.”
I process each heavy word. I wish that he felt like I could handle all of him. I wish that I didn’t idolize him so much from the beginning. “And what about you, Rose?” I ask, turning to her. “Is that enough for you?”
Lily sidles next to Rose and holds her hand. The fact that Lily can even comfort someone after what’s happened to her tonight—it builds something pure inside of me.
Rose nods, her neck straightened and shoulders pulled back. But I catch her squeezing Lily’s hand. “I’m going to the bathroom. You guys can meet us at the car.” Lily braces Rose around the waist, and they weave between the scattering crowds.
I watch how Connor keeps his blue eyes locked on Rose. With more and more concern.
He is in love with her.
For once, in his life, Connor is blind.
When he meets my gaze, I say, “I just want you to know that I lost some respect for you tonight. And you’re not going to get it back so fucking easily.” I don’t want to play his games. I’m not an investor he needs to slip in his back pocket. I’m his friend. I just want him to be real with me.
“Sure,” he says softly. “I understand.”
His gaze drifts to the carpet in deep thought. A faraway look that I don’t often see from him. My stomach is in knots. I already want to forgive him, to say don’t worry about it. He has that power over people. It’s insane, and I realize how much I love the guy.
That’s the funny thing right:
He’ll probably never love me.
{ 21 }
0 years : 07 months
March
LILY CALLOWAY
“LILY! LOREN!”
The paparazzi swarm us like ants crawling out of a hill. Only now the
y’re willfully rushing between cars in the street, just to film us on the sidewalk as we try to push our way into a New York City building.
A camera lens accidentally knocks into my head. Ouch. I shut my eyes as the pain swells.
“Back up!” Lo yells at the paparazzi. He guides me forward and protects my head by tugging me closer to his chest.
Ryke physically restrains cameramen with the length of his strong arms, using them as barriers. He’s like my replacement Garth since I had to sadly put him on hiatus. The production team wouldn’t let Daisy and me keep our bodyguards, something about “getting in the way.”
I miss Garth’s brutal, intimidating stares that shrank any pedestrians who gave me stink eyes.
And I miss the way he smells like bagels in the morning. No matter if he’s a man of few words. He was brawn that I severely lacked.
I try to hold out my leopard-print canister of pepper spray for self-protection, but I practically have a T-Rex claw hand, not able to outstretch my arm very far.
“Who’s better in bed, Lily?!” a cameraman shouts. “Loren or Ryke?!”
Fire burns my belly. I wish I was a T-Rex. I’d eat him.
In a non-sexual way. Just to be clear.
My neck heats.
“Lily,” Lo says, his lips right beside my ear. “Breathe.”
I realize that I’m taking slow, shallow breaths. My forehead sweats, and my upper lip is probably perspiring. How sexy. “Lo,” I whisper over the shouting paparazzi and Ryke who hollers to move back! “Are we going to make it?”
I meant to the building. We’re here to support Daisy, who’s in a runway show for a popular designer. But my words seem to encompass more than this time and place. Princesses of Philly was the most viewed reality show on GBA ever. We didn’t have this amount of fame before. It’s a whole new level of crazy.
Lo answers by lifting me up in his arms, front piggy-back style which is intimate and safe. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. I block out the noise. It’s just Lo and me. Like old times.
He says, “We can make it.”
I believe him.
My legs tighten around his waist, and a bad part of me starts to ache…for something harder. Sex is on the brain today.
Just go into the building. Everything will be quiet.
It’s a wishful thought.
As soon as Ryke pushes through the doors ahead of us, Lo enters with a string of five or six cameramen trailing him. Only two belong to the reality show.
More flashes and clicking.
There is no escape.
* * *
We sit on plastic white chairs that line the runway. I lean closer to Lo, gripping his bicep while his hand remains on my knee. “Can you put your hand higher,” I whisper, my heart racing in my chest. I need something.
Wait. My eyes bug.
I take in the setting. Front row seats to a runway show. Press snap photos of the audience before the models begin to walk. I’m wedged between Lo and Ryke. For some reason, production separated us from Rose, Connor and Scott, who sit across the white runway.
I can’t be fingered right now. On this chair. In front of other people.
Some logical part of my brain died outside.
Lo gives me a worried look.
“Nevermind,” I slur together. “Keep your hand, right here.” I pat the top of his hand on my knee for further emphasis. But I wonder if I can just pull it up a little higher.
No.
I cross my legs to put some pressure between my thighs.
It doesn’t help. I think I’m sweating through a Calloway Couture blouse. I’m going to ruin one of Rose’s garments. Shit. I waft the silky fabric away from my chest to avoid boob sweat.
Lo rubs my shoulder. “Look at me, Lil.”
I do. His amber eyes almost melt me beyond recognition. My heart is speeding so fast. Everything will feel better if we just…I just want him to thrust…no Lily.
He scrutinizes my state of mind, his scotch-colored eyes dancing over me. Then he holds my head to whisper in my ear, “I can’t have sex with you today.” His voice is very stern.
I exhale a tight pain in my chest. “I know.” It’d be the bad sex that only medicates my anxiety. The compulsive, beastly side of me that comes out with stress and loneliness.
“Why are you here, Lily?”
I frown. “What do you mean…?”
“In this chair,” he says, “in this building. What are we doing here?”
I glance around. Oh. The cameras. The runway. I look across it. Rose and Connor are talking so quickly, probably in French, and their eyes keep flickering to me. Concern coats their faces.
Even a few famous actors line the front row. Some even former models themselves.
I turn to Ryke on my right. He stares down at me with those hardened brows. “You look like hell.”
Déjà vu. I abandoned Rose’s fashion show for sex once upon a time. Never again. I don’t want to keep repeating the same mistakes. This time will be different.
“I’m here for my sister,” I tell Lo.
He nods again, seeing that I understand.
I take a deep breath, uncross my legs and lace my fingers with Lo’s. Don’t think about sex.
Good plan, Lily.
And then the music fires up—an electronic beat that I wholeheartedly approve of. People still brush elbows with their friends, whispering as the models prepare to do their thing, but the overall chatter is drowned out by the song.
I squirm and sit taller, straighter in my chair, inflated with this temporary confidence. Don’t think about sex.
“Lily,” Lo winces. I’m gripping his hand so hard that his fingers purple.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s okay,” he says, resting his hand on my knee.
I stiffen, and he retracts almost instantly.
“Wait,” I say hurriedly, “don’t be afraid of me…”
Lo stares at me for a long second with confusion. “I’m not, Lil.” He rubs my thigh just to show me.
I nod. This is good. The spot between my legs pulses. Shut up vagina.
Now I’m speaking to my vagina. Great.
I can leave.
But that means I let my addiction rule my life. I only win if I stay put. Lo’s hand drifts to the back of my neck, his thumb making melodic, calm circles that slow my heart.
His amber eyes never leave mine, and I find myself scooting closer, my leg pressed up against his, my hand on his waistband.
“Lily…” he breathes shallowly. It’s a warning but why does he sound so sexy?
His concern is turning me on? Dear God.
I focus on the runway for uglier scenery. Loren Hale is too gorgeous to stare at right now. But as soon as I turn my head, I realize the models have already started strutting along the white lane.
Half of them are male.
Who did I smite this past week?
I train my gaze on their feet. They’re the non-sexiest part of a human being, in my opinion. I’ve never been into the whole foot fetish thing.
Ryke slouches beside me, his grumpiness strangely helping keep my anxieties at bay.
Lo says to us, “Rose thinks Daisy’s boyfriend is one of these models she’s been working with.”
I still can’t believe none of us have met him, and apparently they’ve been dating since January.
“I know,” Ryke says tensely. “It’s a stupid theory.”
“Why?” I ask, the conversation the perfect distraction. But my hand has yet to leave the band of Lo’s black jeans.
“Do you not see these fucking guys?” Ryke says to me.
I flush. “I’m not staring…why, did you think I was?” I squint one eye at him.
Ryke shakes his head at me like I can’t even… “Are these models really turning you on right now?” I grow even hotter than before. Technically Loren Hale is turning me on the most.
“Hey,” Lo cuts in. “You don’t know
what she’s going through.”
Ryke raises his hands in defense. “I just don’t see how these guys wearing sweater vests and checkered shirts could arouse any girl, not just her.”
Lo thinks about it and nods. “Point taken.”
Whaaa…I pinch his arm.
He smiles, not even pretending that it hurt.
“Just tell me what they look like,” I say, focusing on Lo’s kneecaps. If he could just move a little closer, I could swing my leg around his—
No.
“Twenties,” Lo explains. “Nice hair.”
I wait for more, but that’s it. “Horrible description.”
“If I paint a vivid picture, you might as well just look at them.”
And fantasize about someone else besides Lo? Not gonna happen. My mind is in DEFCON mode. I have to take precautions, lock it down, before it betrays me.
Lo motions to the runway and says to Ryke, “What if that’s her boyfriend?”
“The blond shirtless one?” Ryke’s face completely darkens, and his jaw hardens to stone.
“Don’t look so upset about it.”
“He’s probably twenty-eight,” Ryke retorts.
“No way, he’s most likely seventeen. Models usually look older than they are.”
“Example A,” I chime in, “my sister.” Daisy has been mistaken for a twenty-something college student as much as I’ve been mistaken for a teenager.
“Exactly,” Lo adds.
“It’s probably that guy,” Ryke says, briefly pointing to someone.
Curiosity compels my gaze that-a-way. The models aren’t nearly as attractive as Lo, so I take a relaxed breath. I find the guy Ryke picked out. He’s tall, lanky with large ears and a shaved head. I cannot see him with Daisy. At all. It’d be so mismatched. Maybe that’s why Lo and I start laughing at the same time.
From across the runway, I catch Rose rolling her eyes at us, but her lips rise as she whispers to Connor again. Despite her usual cold glare, she radiates happiness. Maybe because Lo and I are exuding some bright sentiments rather than stormy ones.
And Scott has seemed to only push Rose and Connor closer rather than tear them apart. For a brief second, the producer locks eyes with me. He combs back his dirty blond locks, his smile just as greasy as his hair.
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