“You don’t have to come, Dais,” Ryke says adamantly, his rough voice echoing from the living room. I crane my neck to try to spot them, but they’re blocked by the wall.
“Your dad said it’s mandatory,” she tells him, “and I want to be there.”
“I don’t want you to be there because you’re in fucking pain right now.”
What? I spring off the barstool and rush into the living room.
“I feel amazing,” she says the word like she could run five miles.
I step into the room as Ryke tells her, “I would believe you more if you weren’t doubled over, Calloway.”
Daisy is hunching, her hand on the back of the couch like a support. Her cast hangs by her side and her head dips down low. “I’m standing upright,” she says. “I’m taller than tall.” And then I notice her casted wrist curving to her stomach like her abdomen hurts.
“Fuck this.” Ryke picks her up and cradles her easily in his arms.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Ryke spins towards me, and Daisy turns her head into his chest, clearly wincing in pain now. “Cramps,” Ryke answers.
I frown, and I feel myself crinkling my nose like Lo mentioned. I try to wipe away that look.
“Are you about to fucking sneeze or something?” he asks in that mean, blunt way.
“No.” I flush. “I’m just confused…” I scan Daisy who fists Ryke’s plain white tee, her discomfort clear.
“I don’t see how this is fucking confusing,” Ryke deadpans.
Afraid to embarrass Daisy, I hesitate delving into the subject, but he started it so…maybe he already knows everything. She seems to be open with him since they’re dating anyway. “Daisy?” I say softly.
“Huh?” She won’t remove her face from his shoulder, refusing to let me see her in pain.
“This is kind of long for a period, isn’t it?” I try to count the days since she said she started. It has to be about nine.
Ryke stiffens but he stares down at Daisy, not speaking for her.
“It’s been awhile,” she says slowly. “But I’ve had ten day periods before…you know, I have this theory…” She grimaces. “…that it’s my body’s way of saying it loves me.” She almost climbs higher onto Ryke’s body as the cramps most likely return with a vengeance. Ryke wears this hard concern that’s nothing short of masculine and kind of scary and cute at the same time.
For her, not me. Just to be clear.
And then it clicks. “You still have irregular periods?” She used to have them during her extreme dieting phases. I blame modeling.
“They’re not as bad as they were,” Daisy says.
Ryke doesn’t seem as optimistic. “Four months of nothing and then this?” he tells her. “I can’t imagine what they were like before you met me.”
“Heaven,” she says sarcastically.
“And now you’re in hell, fucking around with me.”
She laughs, but it dies quickly.
“Do you need Midol?” I ask.
“I took some already. It’ll pass if I don’t think about it. That’s what Rose always says about cramps.”
Mental power. That’s a smart person trait that I’m not so sure I have. With bad cramps, I just curl on my side, cling to Lo and have a Marvel movie marathon. I usually can’t concentrate on the films, just focused on the clenching in my abdomen.
I have faith that Daisy can do it though. She’s strong.
Shoes suddenly clap against the hardwood, and Lo appears from the kitchen, entering through the backdoor. “Hey,” he says to us, first scrutinizing my wellbeing, then his brother and Daisy. “We should leave now in case there’s traffic.”
I spot his nervous anxiety from his locked shoulders and cut jawline. His hand even shakes a little, but he balls it into a fist when he catches me watching.
Lo approaches me while Ryke carries Daisy out the front door, still cradling her. “I’m fine, Lil,” Lo assures me. “Come on.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“How was work?” I ask.
“Boring,” he says, rubbing his lips, another giveaway that he’s anxious. I reach out and hold his hand. His shoulders slacken by a fraction.
He shuts the front door behind him. “What’s up with Daisy?”
“Cramps,” I say.
His face scrunches like, what?
“I questioned it too, but her periods are still out of whack.” What’s strange is that discussing Daisy’s periods has been the norm for some time. I wonder if she realizes that Rose spreads this news like wildfire, and it becomes a topic among the guys too. I hope she’s not that embarrassed by it.
We descend the short stairs and walk to Lo’s matte black Audi, parked by the fir tree. Growing up, Lo always bummed rides with me, but when he first started Halway Comics, Jonathan removed the monthly cap on Lo’s trust fund so he had enough to buy a car.
Ryke always tries to drive the Audi when he’s with Lo. Really, his love and obsession with the two-door car is grounds for cheating on his silver Infinity.
This time, instead of asking Lo to drive, Ryke climbs in the backseat with Daisy, ahead of us. He’d rather take care of his girlfriend than drive a cool car. If I was allowed on social media, I’d document this moment and upload it, literal cute proof that Raisy is meant to be.
Say that was me in Daisy’s position, Ryke wouldn’t crawl in the backseat on my account. In fact, he’d beg Lo to drive so he didn’t have to withstand my moaning and groaning. Our families’ publicists can’t see how useful this evidence is against the three-way rumors.
Lo lets out a short, amused laugh. “Ryke has to be dying.”
I have a feeling this isn’t about the car. Since Daisy is on her period, Ryke probably hasn’t had any action in a while. “He went four months without sex,” I remind Lo. “This has to be easy.”
“So easy that he’s most likely jerking off, counting the days until he can get laid again.”
I don’t know.
Ryke is a guy, but for some reason, I got the impression that he’d rather Daisy have periods than none at all.
“You know that I can’t have sex for weeks after I give birth, right?” I suddenly blurt out. I never thought it’d be an issue with him, but I forgot that he has needs—ones I’ve built to extreme levels. Ryke even said it: Lo fucks the most out of all the guys.
And I’m going to take that away from him.
Lo says quickly, “I know, Lil.” He rests his hands on my shoulders and guides me towards the Audi. And then his lips nestle against my neck and he groans, a not so good one. “Your hair smells like Rose.”
“I think it’s the stuff in the basket she gave me.”
He kisses my temple. “I’m burning that shit.”
“It was a present.”
He grimaces. “Fine, whatever. It can stay as decoration.”
I crane my neck over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, and I notice his muscles have unwound a lot more.
“Lily.”
“Yeah?”
“Move faster.” He pats my ass, and my breath hitches. I’ve stopped about ten feet from his car. With this incentive, I quicken my pace. And the reality of where we’re headed sets in.
To Jonathan Hale’s we go.
* * *
“He changed the location to the country club,” Lo tells us as he drives out of our gated neighborhood. Oh. So to Jonathan Hale’s we don’t go?
Lo passes me his iPod that’s connected to the stereo system. This is the best part of being the side passenger. I have complete control over the music. That and I’m in touching distance of Loren Hale.
I cross my legs on the black leather seat and glance back at Daisy, her head on Ryke’s lap while she curls in a ball. “Theories?” she asks everyone about what’s going to happen with Jonathan.
I scroll through the iPod. “I think he’s just lonely.”
Lo taps the steering wheel. “He says it’s important.”
“He think
s brunch and golf is fucking important,” Ryke says roughly, his arm stretches along the black leather seat. It looks like he’s giving the Audi a little hug. His eyes suddenly land on me. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Can’t a person smile at you?” I say.
“No,” he deadpans.
I flip my hair at him as I turn around, feeling cooler than I know I look, and I find my favorite song in the whole wide universe of brilliant tunes. The moment the electronic beats start blaring through the speakers, I turn the volume way up. It’s the only way to listen to Skrillex’s “Bangarang.”
Lo’s lips rise the moment he hears the song, as though memories and sentiments flood him. We’ve had good bedroom dance parties to this one. And epic sex against the wall.
Ryke groans while I start head-bobbing and shoulder dancing. If I wasn’t in a car, I’d be grinding up on Lo. This song deserves some body contact.
“This song fucking sucks,” Ryke declares.
I immediately freeze, and my jaw drops.
With one hand on the wheel, Lo uses his free one to shoot Ryke the middle finger. Ha! I stick my tongue out at him, a very immature slight, but I feel younger again with Lo. Like when we were teenagers, drowning out everything else.
Daisy is laughing so hard, her medicine probably kicking in.
Ryke says, “If your kid inherits your musical taste, I’m going to fucking rip my hair out.”
I smile. I kind of hope Maximoff does.
“Shit,” Lo curses, his jaw muscles twitching. Through his window, I notice a tan mini-van in the next lane, matching the Audi’s speed. I highly doubt the van is full of preteens and a soccer mom.
The paparazzi must’ve either seen us leave the neighborhood or they were tipped on our whereabouts. I have battled a lot of my “going out in public” phobias, but having a van tucked so close to Lo makes me nervous.
I bite my nails, and I shift so my heel is pressed to the spot between my legs.
“Try speeding up,” Ryke suggests while Daisy lifts her head off his lap to peek at the paparazzi. The van window rolls down and a cameraman points the lens at the Audi’s tinted glass. I doubt he’ll have any good shots, but he snaps photos anyway, flashes blinking.
Lo shifts the manual car into another gear, going about twenty over the speed limit on an uncongested two-lane road.
I lower the volume of the song so he can concentrate.
“Turn it back up,” Lo tells me, his voice only slightly edged. He doesn’t look panicked and neither does Ryke, so I increase the stereo volume once more. He switches into the left lane and then checks the rearview mirror.
“My theory,” Daisy says to lessen the tension, “is that Jonathan wants us to host some kind of charity function for him. Like PR stuff.”
“That’s a pretty good theory,” I nod. I can see that happening. My finger stings…I nibbled the nail to the bed. Shit.
“Lil, put your feet on the floor,” Lo tells me. He must notice the position of my heel.
“You should be watching the road,” I say as I set my soles on the floor mat, but I clench my thighs together, kind of hoping for a stronger pressure, just to take away this anxiety. A climax sounds nice.
Stop, Lily.
“I can multitask,” he says, checking the rearview again. “Connor Cobalt didn’t patent that skill—goddammit.”
The stupid van has caught up to our car, and I squirm uneasily in the seat. Lo looks to me for a second, “Lil.”
I flinch at his reprimanding tone. My hand is creeping like a criminal between my legs. Nonono. I raise my palms in the air, surrendering. “I’m fine. I promise.”
His concern has elevated to extreme proportions. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to this meeting—”
“Nonono. I can do this. Lo, please.” My eyes widen like believe in me.
He studies my state of being, his gaze flitting from the road to me. And then he nods. “Hey, bro,” he calls back to Ryke. “I’m going to pull off the side of the road. Lil and I are going to switch with you and Daisy.”
“Fine with me,” Ryke says, actually looking happy about driving.
Lo is this worried about my anxiety. “I’m okay,” I try to convince him.
“I lied,” Lo tells me, slowing down onto the emergency lane. He parks the Audi and snaps off his buckle. “I can’t multitask.”
Oh. I lick my dry lips. “Okay.”
I unclick my seatbelt. The van parks ahead of us, the doors already opening. We’re on public property so they have every right to take photos. By the time we all step out of the Audi, two cameramen have left their van to snap pictures.
“Lily, look right here,” one of them calls out.
I’ve learned not to take the camera bait, focusing on Lo’s car and nothing else.
As Ryke passes his brother, he flips off both camera guys, and the flashbulbs blink repeatedly.
“Is Lily pregnant with your baby?” one asks Ryke.
“Daisy, how do you feel about Ryke sleeping with your sister?”
My stomach somersaults. I hate that she’s still being affected by my mistakes.
Except for Ryke’s middle fingers, none of us answer the paparazzi. We slip into our new seats, and Lo immediately wraps his arm around my waist, his hands in mine. It’s affection and touch that calms my nerves by a few degrees.
Ryke and Daisy buckle their seatbelts, and then Daisy reaches deep into Ryke’s front pocket…
Uhhh…I grow unexpectedly hot, and I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something worse. I try to convince myself it’s the former.
I look around to see if anyone notices what she’s doing, but Lo is texting, probably his father. And Ryke is adjusting his seat and mirrors.
Daisy retrieves Ryke’s smart phone and plugs it into the stereo. I relax a little. My mind is a dirty, dirty place.
“You two…” Ryke rotates to look at me and his little brother. “Put your fucking seatbelts on.”
“Just don’t kill me,” Lo says as we both buckle. “I’m too young to die.” He flashes his signature half-smile.
Ryke reverses the car, even with one hand on the wheel. He drives with much more precision than Lo, but Ryke succumbs to road rage the fastest out of everyone. In my opinion, it’s not a very good tradeoff.
Daisy chooses a song I vaguely recall, and I spot the title in the dashboard screen: “Dark Center of the Universe” by Modest Mouse. I bet it’s more of a “Ryke” song since she usually goes for the upbeat tunes and less angsty ones.
The moment Ryke shifts the car out of reverse, we go from zero to I’m-gonna-die. I wrap my arm around my belly and then clutch Lo’s leg.
“He’s gonna kill us,” I whisper-hiss to Lo.
He’s too busy watching the cameramen jump back into their van to reply.
“There aren’t any cops in twenty miles,” Daisy tells Ryke.
I frown. “How do you know that?”
She waves her cell. “An app.”
My daredevil little sister would have an app alerting her of nearby policemen.
“Bonnie and Clyde,” Lo says dryly, “we’re not robbing a bank. And really, I don’t want to know what gets you off. K, thanks.”
Ryke leans forward to look out the window. “Motherfuckers.”
Yep, they’ve caught up to us.
He steps on the gas, and my lungs suddenly rocket to my throat. “OhmyGodohmyGod.” This is like one of those theme rides in amusement parks—the ones where I end up peeing a little bit because I’m terrified of heights.
Only this is worse because Ryke is operating the machinery.
He slams on the brakes. “Hold on,” he tells us, the warning coming way too late.
I think I just peed. I check my crotch. Not that much. Thank God.
Lo clasps my hand while the van speeds ahead and Ryke swerves through the grassy median into the lanes going the other way. Now we’re headed in the opposite direction of the van. And the country club.
&n
bsp; Daisy is not only smiling like this is the best experience she’s had all week, but she lowers the window and sticks her hand out.
They are really meant for each other.
“You both are insane,” Lo says matter-of-factly. “You shouldn’t worry about children because I don’t think either of you will live long enough to have any.”
Daisy mock gasps. “Too late. I’m already pregnant.”
“Cute, Calloway,” Ryke says, speeding up and pulling off the nearest exit so he can go a new way. He’s still speeding.
“Should we start praying?” I whisper to Lo. “Or maybe if we concentrate hard enough our teleportation powers will kick in and we can blink away.” I pause. That’s really selfish, leaving Ryke and Daisy to fend for themselves. “Or maybe we’ll be able to stop time.”
And that’s when a giant white Trailblazer merges into our lane and hits our Audi, crashing into the driver’s door and the one nearest Lo.
The side airbags pop and little bitty pieces of glass rain down on both Ryke and Loren, crunchy like gravel.
“Fuck,” Ryke curses. We must’ve been in their blind spot.
The seatbelt has dug hard on my belly, and I feel more wetness between my legs. I solidify, wondering if it’s something worse than just pee. Ryke has to pull over into a nearby gas station with the Trailblazer, especially since the Audi is driving strange.
“I think the wheels are fucking bent,” Ryke says. Daisy turns off the stereo and brushes some of the glass out of Ryke’s hair.
I should do the same to Lo, but my eyes are just too wide, transfixed on one issue. I open my legs and peer down, but I can’t see much since my leggings are black.
“Lil?” Lo says, worry edging his voice. I can’t move.
Ryke tries to open his car door, but it’s jammed. Daisy climbs out the Audi first, then Ryke crawls over the middle console and exits. I’m next.
I can’t move.
“Lily,” Lo forces my name and cups my face, turning it to him. “What’s wrong?”
“I either peed or…” My eyes burn.
Lo glances down at my lap. “You’re bleeding?”
“I don’t know,” I say in one tight breath.
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