{ 24 }
LILY CALLOWAY
The door opens and I don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t speak. I want to disappear from this chair, this country, this planet.
Lo walks in front of my view of the balcony ledge, where I had literally considered testing my ability to fly. He’s shirtless, but not even the curve of his abs could entice me right now. He remains a few feet away from me, not closing the distance that draws tension like a black hole.
I finally look up to meet his gaze, my body numbing.
His eyes have become glassy, and he grips the railing behind him for support. On a normal occasion, before rehab and before recovery, he’d be sweeping me up into his arms. I’d wrap my legs around his waist and wish for sex to take away my humiliation, to remind myself that I’m good at something. I’m not worthless or alone. With every thrust and every climax, I’d be gone.
But now, the thought of doing that drives a hammer into my heart. I know with certainty that it’s wrong. I wonder if he’s keeping distance, afraid of that path that I might choose for us.
I don’t want it.
So I say, “I don’t want sex.” Tears gather in my eyes. “I just want you to hold me.”
They are magic words.
In one quick motion, he is in front of me and then I’m in his arms and on his lap. He blankets me with his body, wrapping his arms around my small frame. I bury my head into his chest, the tears pooling out as he rubs the back of my head. I feel safe here.
We sit like that for a good while, until his heart steadies and my breathing evens. What happened feels like a failure on my part. I screwed up and let my addiction win.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, breaking the peaceful silence.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Lil.”
“I feel like I let you down…let us down,” I admit. “We’re supposed to be getting better.”
“And there will be roadblocks and setbacks,” he tells me, “just because you hit one doesn’t mean you let me down. If anything, I’m proud of you for handling it like this.”
“Because the alternative is me attacking your body.”
He smiles. “Something like that, yeah.” He tucks an escaped piece of hair behind my ear. “What did your therapist say?”
Connor must have told him more than I thought. I’m glad. It saves me from reiterating the most embarrassing moment of my life.
“She said that I need to start coming up with ways to stop myself from fantasizing. Like focusing on homework or American presidents.”
“Basically what every teenage boy does to avoid a hard-on.”
I frown. I didn’t think about it like that. “I guess…” Then I shake my head. “But it doesn’t sound that simple. I understand how to stop myself from looking at porn and from self-love, but how do I stop myself from thinking. How does someone control that?”
“Practice,” Lo says. “I’m trying too. Believe me.”
I nod, knowing it can’t be much easier for him. At least thinking about booze doesn’t lead to an involuntary orgasm. I flush at the memory and groan into my hands.
“Maybe I’ll just remember the look on Connor and Rose’s face. I think that will keep me from fantasizing about anything for the next solid two-hundred years.”
He pulls me closer, rubbing my back soothingly, and then he kisses my lips in one quick second, testing it out.
We’re worse together when things are out of control, and during these moments we have to be careful. It’d be so easy to enable each other just to make us feel better again, but being a couple also means being intimate. Comforting someone normally involves touch—a hug, a kiss, a hand on a leg—things that send me off the deep end. We just have to find a balance.
“How was that?” he asks.
It felt simple and right. “Good.”
“I have a question, and I want you to know that I won’t be offended if the answer isn’t what I want it to be. I just…I’d like the truth.”
“Okay.”
He takes a small breath and then his eyes drop to my lips again. He plants another soft kiss, longer this time. I don’t move or force it into something else. I let him take the lead, and I don’t wish for anything more either. What he gives me is enough.
He draws back and looks from my body to my lips to my eyes, taking in every detail. “You okay?”
I nod again. “Just waiting for your question.”
“Right.” He takes another trained breath. “Your fantasies—who was in them?”