So I can’t say, Yeah, man, I’ve stopped dating for four fucking months because I’ve been busy taking care of your girlfriend’s little sister, spending nights at her place, even sleeping in her bed just so she can stop being so fucking scared. And I don’t miss those other girls, but I do miss being laid.
I’m not used to jerking off every fucking day.
“Ryke,” Connor says, and I spin around to meet a face that studies mine with too much fucking knowledge and suspicion. “It’s just odd. You’re what I would call a serial dater, as is Daisy, and since she graduated and moved into your apartment complex, no one has seen either of you with someone else.”
“What is this?” I say, looking between Connor and Lo. “Watson and Holmes? I hate to break it to both of you, but there’s no fucking mystery to be solved.”
“Cut the shit,” Lo says. “It’s weird, and you know—”
“I’m not with her,” I interject. “I’m not fucking Daisy. I’m not touching her. I told you, Lo, I wouldn’t.” We’ve been through this for over two years. And he still looks at me like I’m one second from betraying him, like I’m going to choose a girl over him, like I’m going to cross a big fucking line that will destroy the relationships that matter to me.
I wouldn’t. I fucking won’t. Because at the end of the day, if Daisy and I got together, if something happened and we broke up, I’d lose my brother. She’s like his little sister. He grew up with the Calloway girls. Daisy has known him her whole fucking life. I’ve known Lo for three years. For fuck’s sake, I am the thing that can be tossed aside. Everything’s confusing. Nothing makes complete sense. My dick says one thing. My head says another. I have morals. I have Lo’s constant warnings. I have five kinds of wrong and no kinds of right.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
“Okay,” Lo says, watching me closely, seeing the anger pulse in my eyes.
I’m so fucking screwed. If he ever finds out that I sleep in Daisy’s bed, that I’m practically her fucking roommate, he’s going to kill me. Really, murder could be a fucking option in Loren Hale’s twisted mind, and I think I’d let him do it.
“Look,” I tell Lo and Connor, “I date girls for a week, sometimes a couple of fucking days if they don’t pan out. I’m not going to bring one of them to Princeton so you guys can meet her. It’s never serious. The strings that I tie down are the ones that mean something to me.” My eyes flicker to each of them. “I haven’t found a girl that I want to tie myself to, and I don’t know if I ever will.”
“You will,” Lo says certainly, nodding like he’s trying to convince himself of it.
“It’s okay if I don’t.” I’m surrounded by people I care about. That can be enough for me.
Lo’s sharp gaze meets mine. “You’re not going to be alone forever.”
He says it like a declaration. I think he wants the best for me, but I also think that side battles with his selfish feelings. The ones that say: I need one-hundred percent of you or else I’m going to drown.
“So what if I am?” I say. “Lo, I didn’t grow up with a Lily Calloway. I didn’t have a best friend turned girlfriend.” Lily was literally the girl next door, a family friend that he trusted with everything. Now they’re engaged. I’m not envious of their co-dependent relationship that has thankfully grown a little healthier throughout the years.
I just recognize that he’s different from me, even if we are alike in some ways.
“I’m fucking used to relying on myself,” I add.
Lo just shakes his head like I’m an idiot—to be satisfied with something less. But maybe I don’t deserve something more. Maybe the point of my fucking life is to help my brother get on his feet.
Connor passes Lo the bowl of whisked eggs, and my brother hesitates to pour them in the pan. “Let’s wait for the girls to come out.”
“How’s Lily doing?” I ask him.
He sets the bowl on the counter. “Better than me.” He rubs the back of his neck. “She tries to bring up my dad and alcohol, but honestly, it’s just fucking hard sometimes.” His amber eyes meet mine. “His lawyers said they can’t reach you for questioning. I told them that you don’t want to go on record.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Lo shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.”
I run my hand through my hair, feeling Connor watching us like a psychiatrist fucking would. There’s a lot there, okay? I don’t want to see our dad, and Lo is complying with that for now.