Ryke leans back in his chair. “That doesn’t make me a fucking sex addict.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I know it’s hard to admit, especially since you’ve been with so many women. But we’re here for you now. You can get this under control.” I put my hand on his arm in comfort.
His lips part a little. I think he’s finally out of the denial stage. And then he says, “I can’t tell if you’re being fucking serious.” He looks to Lo. “Is she for real right now?”
That should’ve worked. I did all the serious things that serious people do. The complacent face. The folded hands. The stiff spine. Check, check, double check. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” I add.
“Lily…” Ryke’s eyes darken. “I’m not a fucking sex addict. I know you wish I was, so I could join in your little sex addicts not-anonymous club, but it’s not happening.”
I thought I’d crack him this time.
Damn.
I slouch again. Fuck sitting up straight. “Can you at least admit that you screw more than the average male?” I ask. He always gets numbers from waitresses when we eat lunch out, and I’ve seen him slip into so many bathrooms with girls. He does one-night stands with zero shame. In and out. Sex, sex, sex.
Wow.
That does sound like me. Except for the zero shame part.
“No,” Ryke snaps back and points to Lo. “Your boyfriend fucks more than the average male and way more than me. You two have sex once every night.” Twice. Sometimes three or four times.
“He has an excuse,” I defend. “He’s dating a recovering sex addict.”
Ryke laughs into a grin. “Don’t fool yourself,” he says kind of meanly. His eyes flit over my shoulder to Lo. I can feel his smile as they both gang up on me. “He wants it just as badly as you.”
I would have disagreed with him months ago, when Lo feared pushing me over the edge with his own needs, but now Lo shows his arousal way more. So it seems like the truth.
“So is Lo a sex addict?” Ryke asks me, his brows raised in combat.
No. He’s not. They’re both just horny. “Fine,” I surrender, “but can you not sleep with our next store manager? It’s hard trying to find the right girl for the job.”
“Then hire a guy,” he says.
“We just went through this,” Lo says. He touches my head. “Sex addict.” He motions to Ryke. “Not a sex addict.”
“How about this?” Ryke refutes. He waves to me. “In a relationship.” His hands lie flat on his chest. “Single.”
“He has a point,” I mutter.
“No way,” Lo says. “We’re not hiring a guy because of him.” He looks to Ryke. “Keep your dick in your pants or get a girlfriend, man.”
“Or…” I say, a light bulb blinking. “What kind of girl are you not attracted to?” We can just hire someone Ryke would never sleep with. Problem solved.
“I like all women,” he proclaims.
Problem not solved.
“That’s so something a sex addict would say,” I tell him.
He chucks a fry at my face.
I eat it. So there.
“I can tell you point-blank why I’m not a sex addict,” he says, crossing his arms and rocking back on two legs of his chair. “When I come, I don’t have to do it again.”
“The real issue,” Lo says, “is how you’ve actively slept with Lily’s store managers.” Lo’s hands dive to my waist. I hold them there as they slip by my thighs.
“It’s not like I was actively…” He trails off, his gaze rising behind our chair.
We don’t have to turn our heads to find his distraction. Daisy scrapes the chair back beside Lo, her plate full of raspberries and apple slices. She senses the awkward tension almost immediately and hesitates to touch her fruit. “Am…I not welcome?”
“No,” I say and then redden. “I mean, yes. It’s your birthday.”
Ryke runs his hand through his hair, looking rather uncomfortable.
“You were saying?” Lo prods.
He meets Daisy’s eyes for two seconds, but I can’t read what passes through them. “…I wasn’t actively seeking her out.”
Daisy crunches on an apple, not prying.
“So how’d it go?” Lo asks.
“How does anything like that fucking go?” Ryke says. “We made eye contact. We talked for a couple minutes. Exchanged numbers and hooked up. The fucking end.”