He slides me down to my feet, and before I dart to the computer, his arms slip around my waist again, pinning my chest to his. He stares past me, and disappointment and dread begin to fill his amber-colored eyes.
What? I crane my neck over my shoulder. Ryke grimaces at something on the screen. My heart flip-flops and somersaults. “What’s wrong?” I say in a small voice.
“Your history is fucking filthy,” Ryke tells me in a serious tone.
But…that’s impossible. I clear my history. All the time. Lo lets go of me, cold replacing his warmth, which stings the most. I stay frozen by the coffee table, and he joins Ryke on the couch, scanning the long list.
“I don’t understand…” I mutter.
“I checked your history yesterday,” Lo says, his eyes grazing the screen like Ryke’s. “It was all erased. I thought that was suspicious. So I told Ryke this morning, and he said there’s a backup installed on expensive computers to revive it.” He finally meets my gaze, and before he speaks this time, I interject.
“I can explain,” I say quickly. “I started looking at it a few days ago, but only for a few minutes at a time. I’m learning how to portion control. I was going to tell you after I talked to my parents. It’s a good thing actually. I can watch it like a normal person now.” My voice becomes unnaturally high.
Ryke, surprisingly, keeps quiet and turns to Lo.
I’ve already framed his response. He won’t condone my porn usage, that I’m sure, but he’ll tell me he understands how hard it is for me and that I have to do better. I wait for his sympathetic words.
“I hope you enjoyed it,” Lo says with edge, “because that was your last time on the internet.”
My mouth falls open, too shocked to speak. He closes my computer and snatches it from Ryke’s lap. I imagine him tossing it in the trash, and my voice suddenly reanimates. “Waitwaitwait!” I throw up my hands. “I have school. I need to write papers and do research.”
Lo walks to a cabinet and places my laptop inside. “Then I’ll sit with you when you do them, but obviously you can’t be trusted with a computer right now.” His eyes hit mine. “Have you been looking at porn on your phone?”
I stare at the cabinet in a fog. I can’t believe this is happening. Lo has never practiced tough love with me. The only love I know is either the sweet kind or the kind that makes me come.
“Lily!”
I blink. “A little.”
His chest rises and falls heavily, hurt or angry or maybe a bit of both. “There is no a little,” he says roughly. “It’s either yes or no.”
I shake my head. “I was making it work,” I defend.
“Porn is not like sex. You’re not allowed to look at the photos for an hour and be done.”
“Why not?” I ask. “If I’m not being compulsive about it—”
“You’re addicted. It doesn’t feel like a compulsion now. But two days later that hour on your computer turns into three. A week later, you’re losing sleep to the habit. Then in a month, all your free fucking time is consumed by checking your phone, logging onto websites, falling asleep to movies. Lily…” He walks over and cups my face, brushing fallen tears from my eyes. “I have watched porn eat away your time and your life. I’m not going to let it happen again.”
Before I can wrap my head around my feelings, his hand slips into my back pocket, and he retrieves my cell phone. “On the way to your parents, we’ll stop and buy you a flip phone. One that doesn’t have internet.”
He slides the cell into his own pocket. His eyes fall to mine, still serious.
“Have you been masturbating?”
I feel the heat of my rash-like embarrassment flooding my face. I glance hesitantly at Ryke, not wanting to discuss any of this with him in the room. They have banded together, and I can’t deny that Ryke has made Lo stronger.
“Lily, you asked to give me head in front of him,” Lo reminds me. “You can’t be embarrassed now.”
“I’m not…I haven’t.” I don’t mention how I’ve contemplated the act and almost succumbed to the temptation （more than once） in the shower.
“You promise?” he asks, still disbelieving. “Because there are ways I can check. I could smell your fingers right now or go through your box of toys.”
I scowl. My stomach turns in a mixture of anger and hurt. “You don’t have to do that,” I say. “I’m telling you the truth.”