It’s not true, but I have no fucking evidence. Why would my word hold up? I’m the addict. I’m untrustworthy. Anything I do or say won’t matter because it could all be a lie.
It’s why I remain quiet. It’s why my heated gaze stays fixed on the wall. Through my silence, Lily begins to defend me. “He would have thrown up if he drank!” she yells. “He’s on Antabuse.”
I rub my lips to hide a grimace. I should have told her that I quit taking the pills. Christ. I should have fucking told her.
I bury my anguish beneath confusion, trying to piece together who put the alcohol in my closet. But it’s not a difficult problem to solve. Scott wants drama. He’s received plenty from us, despite his declaration to play nice.
“Are you still taking it?” Ryke asks me.
His words push the wrong button. Hate sears my lungs. “Shouldn’t you know that? You count my pills.” My harsh voice hurts my ears. I hate this.
I hate that I’m going on the defensive, but it’s the easiest mode to be in.
Rose almost steps forward in retaliation, but Connor places his hands on her waist to keep her calm.
Ryke scratches the back of his neck. “I stopped because I was trying to trust you.”
Why are you such a fuck up, Loren? My eyes start to burn. “I don’t even know why you ask me,” I say. “You already think I drank.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”
Connor cuts in to ease the situation. “We can squash this really easily. We haven’t seen you sick these past couple weeks. All you have to do is show us your pills so we know that you’re taking them.”
I can’t. They’ll hate me. I don’t need to see their disappointment. “It’s not your fucking body, Connor,” I sneer. Why can’t they just leave me alone? It’d be so much easier. “This doesn’t affect anyone in the room but me and maybe Lil. I don’t have to tell you shit.” I stand, about to leave this all behind me.
I can’t look back at Lily. I just storm towards the exit, but Rose steps in my path, stretching her arms on the door frame to physically block me. I don’t need this right now, not from her.
“Your addiction affects everyone in this room,” she nearly yells. “If you can’t see that—”
“I see just fine,” I say coldly. Don’t push me, Rose. My jaw throbs. My muscles strain. I just want to escape this. Doesn’t she get it?
“Don’t be an idiot.”
Don’t be such a fucking idiot, Loren. I let out a short laugh. “That’s so fucking easy for you, isn’t it?” I say with malice. I am being swallowed by blackness. I can’t see a way out besides hurting her as much as she’s torturing me. “Being smart.” I step forward in her face. “Miss Perfect. What do you have to worry about? Does my hair look good today? Do my shoes match my dress?”
“Lo,” Connor warns.
His voice is so soft behind me. I drown it out. I watch Rose’s ribcage fall and rise heavily, venom seeping out of her eyes.
I begin to numb.
I rotate and spot her organized bookshelf, too meticulous, nothing out of place. I walk over to the shelves. “Let’s see, Rose…” I pick up a hardback and flip through the pages before throttling the book, the spine ungluing. “How does this feel?”
She inhales severely, her collarbones jutted out.
Her pain slices my insides, and I just keep moving, being cut open with each soulless action. I open a stack of manila folders and shake the papers loose.
“Stop it!” Rose shouts, dropping to her knees to collect each page.
“This doesn’t bother you, right?” I say, agony clenching my stomach, gripping my bones. I wish she would hit me. Deck me right in the gut. I just want this pain to go away. “Nothing’s fucking wrong with Rose Calloway? I’m the idiot. I’m the fucking moron in your world who’s so stupid and selfish that he would drink again and again.” I’m the fuck up. The degenerate. The loser.
Just leave me alone.
Let me go.
“No…” she says, eyes wide in horror at her scattered papers.
My throat almost closes at how crazy she’s become. I stare dazedly as she breathes sharply, hyperventalting. Connor approaches quickly and bends down to her, whispering in her ear. Then he lifts her by the waist.
She screams manically, “No!” Rose kicks out to try to reach the papers.
I’m going to throw up. Sickness rises from my stomach.
“Stop,” Connor says in the pit of her ear.
She screams shrilly, a desperation that I’ve never heard from her. While Connor holds her back, Rose’s eyes meet mine.
And my mouth moves before I can stop it. “It took you twenty-three goddamn years to finally lose your virginity,” I say, finding a chink in her armor. “And you lost it to a guy that’s just fucking you for your last name.”
“LOREN!” Connor shouts.
I almost stagger back by the force of my name from his lips, his face blanketed with rage. Cold washes over my body, guilt squeezing my lungs. Why can’t you just hit me? I deserve that. I open my mouth to ask, but he says, “Don’t.” The room silences. My full name off his tongue still rings in my ears. “Give me a minute.”
While he takes care of Rose, I concentrate on the rafters up above, my legs weak from that outburst. This could have gone another way…any other way would’ve been better.
Ryke sets his hand on my shoulder. I can’t look at him.
“Hey, it’s all right.”
It’s not.
“Look at me.”
I can’t. I choke on a breath, tears welling. What the fuck is wrong with me?
He cups my face between his hands, forcing my gaze on his. “We’re on your side, Lo. We’re not against you.”
I barely glance over at Rose, who sits on the vanity bench, Connor wiping her tears with his thumb. She almost never cries.
“Lo,” Ryke says, turning my head again so I focus on him. “You’re okay.”
“Yeah?” I breathe. “You all look at me like I’m a dog that needs to be put out of his misery. I’m just waiting for one of you to finally do it.”
His expression just breaks. “That’s not going to happen.” He doesn’t deny that it’s the case.
“Right,” I whisper. And then I make the mistake of finally looking to Lily, who’s on the edge of the bed. She is frozen in confusion, which is why she never intervened. She wears a haunted expression, like I betrayed her.
I guess I did. I swallow hard.
“Are you going to puke?” Ryke asks.
“I don’t know…” I scan the room, searching for a way out again. But I can’t really escape myself. I have to break away from my brother. The tension between Lily and me is what’s tearing me apart.
In order to resolve something, I have to talk to her.
So I head over to the bed while Ryke crosses his arms. The longer I stare at her features, the more this hurts. “What?” I say.
“Did you drink?” she questions.
I stagger back. She actually thinks I drank?
“I just…I don’t understand why you wouldn’t get your pills to prove it,” she says in a small voice.
“So you’re going to take their side over mine?” I choke. Stop being defensive. It’s one of the very few positive voices in my head.
“I’m not taking sides.” She stares at her hands while she thinks hard. “I just want the truth, Lo.”
“I didn’t drink.” I shake my head over and over, my eyes clouding. “But I can’t prove it. I stopped taking Antabuse months ago.” The truth doesn’t free me—doesn’t lift a weight off my chest. I am strapped with baggage so heavy that there’s no hope to reach the surface.
“You did what?!” Ryke shouts.
“They were driving me nuts!” I yell. I hate this, but it’s a conversation that I can’t avoid anymore. “I’m paranoid about everything I eat—if it’s accidentally cooked in alcohol. I picture myself puking from a shitty fucking meal. I can’t do that for the rest of my
goddamn life.” I turn back to Lily. “You have to believe me.” I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t believe me. I can’t handle this—
“I do,” she says without any doubt.
I exhale deeply and walk to the bed. I reach in for a hug.
Then she pushes me in the chest and points a finger at me. “But it’s not okay. It’s not.” I should have told her. Her chin trembles, and she pulls her shoulders back with more confidence. I love her for it. “You can’t stop taking them just because it drives you nuts. And it’s not okay that you kept this from me…from us…”
Her tears match mine. “I know,” I tell her in a whisper. “I’m sorry.” I sit next to her, and she scoots closer to me. Then our arms sort of meet each other at the same time. I don’t want to let her go.
“We’re in a fight, just so you know,” she whispers. “I’ll sleep in Daisy’s bedroom.”
Pain contorts my face. “You haven’t had sex in three days.” It’s the truth. She’s been cramming for an exam in May, and she falls asleep before we ever get that far. It’s been good, but she won’t be able to keep the routine up for long. It’s just not how her brain works. “I was going to…” I trail off as she shakes her head.
“I don’t care about sex. I care about you being healthy and not drinking.”
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with pride. For her. But also fear for me. I’m falling behind. I can feel myself regressing while she’s barreling ahead. I have to get my shit together.
“We have another issue,” Ryke suddenly says, pulling our attention to the room.
“We don’t have to bring that up now,” Rose snaps.
Connor and Rose stand together, hand-in-hand, and I try to string some apologies together, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
Rose raises her chin, poised again. Like nothing happened. She just gives me a single nod like it’s done, let’s move past this.
I don’t think I’ll forget it though. I’ll have this guilt within me forever.
Ryke grabs a camera that belongs to the crew. I frown, and Lily and I both stand up, coming to his side. “Watch this,” he says.
My stomach overturns.
This isn’t good.
{ 31 }
0 years : 08 months
April
LILY CALLOWAY
Nononono.
I peer at the camera in Ryke’s hands, already emotionally drained with Lo. I wish we could rewind, go back to the couch with our comic books and pretend like this was all a nightmare.
Instead, Ryke hits the “play” button on the camera. Oh my God. My eyes widen. Lo and I are in the bookstore—the day that people, in general, started to freak me out. I watch myself drag Lo into the bathroom and then shut the door closed on the camera.
Anxious heat builds across my skin. In the video, I say, “Can I give you a blow job?”
I can explain. My hand shoots in the air, about to gush forth all the excuses that are surprisingly truths. “I was having a bad day,” I start.
“Shhh,” Lo says, frowning and really glaring at the camera. I’m sure that look is meant for Scott. And as we just watch the door in the video, sound effects start playing…of moaning and male groaning. They never showed how Lo rejected my request? Or how I took it back too? My frown deepens.
“What is this?” Lo asks, his hand slipping in mine before I have a chance to bite my fingernails. “Is this some kind of fucked up joke?”
“You tell us,” Ryke refutes. “You’re fucking in a public bathroom in the middle of the afternoon.”
My stomach sinks. Is this how they’d react if they knew we’ve done that many times before the cameras started invading our personal space?
“Nooo,” Lo says the word slowly. “We didn’t fuck in the bathroom. We don’t fuck anywhere but our bedroom.” I shut up because I’m a worse liar than him. This is fact. “Someone must have tampered with the video.”
“So you didn’t ask to give Loren a blow job?” Rose questions me, her hands set on her hips.
“I…” My elbows are roasting. “I did do that…” I mutter.
“And then I told her no,” Lo adds. We’re not lying about this—that’s the weird thing.
“What were you actually doing for thirty minutes in the bathroom?” Connor asks casually.
I relax a little, not feeling as defensive with him.
Lo says, “I was giving Lily a pep talk.”
“I needed one,” I say. I smile at Lo, and he rubs my back. Then I remember my earlier declaration. I never believed that he could start lying to me after rehab. And I take one step away from him, his hand falling from mine. “We’re still in a fight.”
His throat bobs. “I’m going to start taking Antabuse again, Lil.”
“Good,” I say with a nod. I ache to step into his arms, for him to hold me and for me to hold him. Nowhere feels better than in his embrace. But I have to do what’s best for him. No enabling. So I can hold out for a day or so. I turn to Ryke. “Fast-forward to the end. When we come out of the bathroom, I know I’ll look disappointed.”
Ryke speeds up the footage, and when he presses play, I watch myself exit the bathroom, my fingers laced with Lo’s. My hair is perfectly flattened, but my lips are just slightly curved downwards. “Ah-ha!” I point at the camera. “I look so upset.”
Rose nears the screen with disbelief. I expect her expression to flood with realization. It doesn’t change.
“That’s you disappointed?” Ryke asks. “You’re sweating and your face is red.”
“It was hot in the bathroom,” I defend.
“It was,” Lo agrees but his voice is soft. He knows that we have no evidence in our favor. They just have to trust us. Maybe they shouldn’t. We are lying to them on one account.
“Are they going to air this?” I ask.
“Probably,” Connor says, “but it helps promote your wedding.” The wedding. I internally shrink. “The bad edit would be you slipping into the bathroom with another guy.”
“We’re just concerned about your health,” Rose says.
I wish, so badly, they could just believe I’m doing okay. But only Lo truly sees my progress. He’s the one wrapped so closely with my sex addiction. The others just see glimpses here and there, and the bad times seem to stick out far more than the good.
“I didn’t have sex, Rose,” I tell her, desperately hoping she accepts this truth. “I’m doing better. I mean, I shouldn’t have asked Lo that…that question. But besides that, I’m doing better.”
I can go a day without sex, no crippling anxiety or fear attached. Sure, sometimes I cling onto Lo more than I should. But it’s an everyday fight.
I don’t know how to show them what I feel.
Lo reaches down and his fingers brush against mine, silently asking if he can hold my hand.
I stare into his amber eyes that express a thousand regrets. He’s beating himself up about the pills more than I ever could. This video is no one’s fault…but maybe Scott Van Wright’s.
I squeeze his fingers, and he laces them with mine.
“I thought you were in a fight,” Ryke says to us.
“We are,” I say softly, not taking my eyes off his. No one is going to hurt us: I read in his gaze. No one is going to pull us apart.
Not Scott.
Not my sister.
Not his brother.
If someone sinks us, it’ll be ourselves. That, I’m sure of.
{ 32 }
0 years : 08 months
April
LOREN HALE
I stand rigid like marble at the base of the staircase. The living room television is turned on, playing a rerun of Princesses of Philly. The episode revolves around the Alps trip where we all played party games and had to endure Julian as well as Scott.
Rose sits on the couch, her computer on her lap and her eyes flitting to the television. She doesn’t notice me lingering.
“Haven’t you already seen this episode?” I ask. She doe
sn’t turn around to acknowledge my presence, which pounds another ounce of remorse into me. I haven’t confronted her about what I did after they accused me of drinking. Apologies infiltrate my head. But I always relate “sorry” to a plea for forgiveness. And I don’t know if I want her to forgive me.
Silence hangs in the air and I let out a long breath. Maybe I should just say it anyway. Because I am sorry. I do mean the words.
Before I can open my mouth once more, she finally answers my earlier question, “I’m making a list of how much screen time each Calloway Couture piece has, who wears the garment, and then I’m cross-matching the numbers with sales.”
“How’s it going?” I wonder.
“Surprisingly, the clothes that Lily wears have the most sales, but she also has the most air time, so that’s probably a factor,” Rose tells me.
My eyes lift to the TV, and I see Julian rolling his eyes and taking a sip of beer. Even his virtual presence causes my nerves to fire and my skin to crawl. And yet, I still tolerate him. Is that something we do for the people we care about?
“How can you stand to be around me?” I suddenly ask what’s been plaguing my mind.
Rose shifts in her seat to look over the couch, her gaze meeting mine.
“What do you mean?”
“You hate me,” I say, “but you put up with me for Lily. It must be hard, right?” I’m no easier to be around than this guy. That’s the sad truth that tears at me.
She reads between all the lines, her eyes flitting to the screen and then back to me. “You’re not Julian,” she says like I’m an idiot. “You don’t even come close.”
“I made you cry,” I say, my voice hollow. In her bedroom. I pushed all of her buttons on purpose.
“I forgive you,” she says easily.
“How?”
She’s not soft. She sits up straight with barriers hundreds of feet tall. “Because I know you’ll never forgive yourself,” she says. “Your guilt is punishment enough, don’t you think?”
Maybe. I don’t know. But I do think she knows me too well.
“Anyway, Daisy doesn’t even like Julian. She’s only with him because she’s too scared to dump him and hurt his feelings. We all have a right to dislike him if we collectively know the relationship is doomed.” She pauses. “But you and Lily—you two love each other. It’s not that difficult to put my feelings aside when I can see how happy you make her.”
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