“What?” He stops the friction between my legs. No, no, no. “Lo…”
“I want to know if he’s really here for comics, Lily. Is that the last time we’re going to see him?”
I bite my lip, and he sees straight through me.
“What’d you do?” he breathes, his hands tightening on my wrists. The pressure feels better than it should.
Telling the truth will be a defeat I do not want to claim just yet. So I think on my toes. “He wants to write an article about us…about what it’s like to be the children of consumer moguls. And I said yes because I owed him, and I knew…I knew you wouldn’t agree because he has to follow us around. So I thought the Comic-Con lie would help introduce him to you…”
Lo stares at me with cold, narrowed eyes, and he drops my hands, taking four steps back from me. “He has to follow us around?”
I nod. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you—”
“You know why I would have said no?” He points to his chest. “I hate having to hide alcohol. You don’t get it because sex is something we do in private.”
I frown. “Like you mauling me in front of Ryke? That was private?”
Lo shakes his head. “The most he’ll think is that I’m a horny guy, Lil. He won’t connect that you’re a sex addict. And I don’t need him fucking writing about our problems in a published article for my father to see.”
“It’s for a class grade,” I lie. The article doesn’t even exist! But it’s the best excuse I have to validate Ryke hanging around us. “He won’t publish it.”
“And you believed him when he told you that? It’s bullshit.”
“It’s not!” I refute, my eyes welling with tears. I’ve never tried this hard to guide him towards a good place, and it’s breaking me apart inside. “ImsorryImsorryImsorry,” I slur.
His face shatters and he closes the space between us. “Hey…” His voice softens. He holds my cheeks and wipes the tears with his thumb. “We can tell him that we’re not interested anymore.”
I shake my head and choke on a sob. “No…” Why can’t this be easier? I want to be able to tell Lo to stop, but he won’t. No matter what I say, he’ll keep drinking. This feels like my only option.
“Why not?”
“I promised,” I say. “Please…let me…let me keep it.” These emotions need to end. I start to drown in them, and so I focus on things that always make me feel better. I kiss him lightly on the lips.
He kisses back. And then his lips leave mine. He has a hand on the back of my head, and he stares at me like we should talk more, but I’d rather do other things.
I unbutton his jeans.
“Lily…” he says, very softly.
I unzip and yank them down. “Don’t speak.” I’m about to drop to my knees, but he grabs my elbow.
“Lily…” His amber eyes glass over. Is he about to tell me to stop?
I frown in confusion. “What?”
After a long moment, he whispers, “Nothing.” He releases his hold, and I watch his cheeks sharpen to ice. My knees hit the floorboards, and I pull down his boxer-briefs in a systematic routine. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, and I try to forget the sadness in his eyes, the kind that can call on silent tears.
I try to remember the passion, the fire, and for this moment, I make sure to drown him in pleasure.
{20}
Our relationship is dangling on thin strings that threaten to break. I feel it. I’m sure he feels it as well. His biggest worry was being able to satisfy me, but that’s hardly a problem. Our selfishness wedges between us. Neither of us is willing to give up what we love for each other. Not yet. And I’m not sure what it’s going to take to let go of our addictions.
By Sunday, a thunderstorm confines us indoors, and Connor drops by unannounced—for no reason at all other than to share a beer with Lo. I’m starting to believe he likes hanging around us. After arguing who would win a game of chess, Lo and Connor crack out a board and play between chatter and sips of beer.
I flip through a Cosmo magazine on the chair, reading about new sex positions. I realize what’s important to me may not be important to other girls. And I’m okay with that. Sex is something I genuinely love. In my case, probably too much.
Rain patters against the windows, and I ignore texts from my sisters about missing the luncheon. I also find Ryke on Facebook and send him a quick message about the new lie. When I scroll through my phone, I see his response.