Great.
Of course I remember the poll months ago where Lo lost to his brother. Wendy Collins most likely wants to see if opinions differ after the show aired. I swallow the lodged pebble in my throat and click into the article.
I scroll down to the poll and vote for Loren. The minute I click his name, the current results fill the screen.
Ryke Meadows: 12%
Loren Hale: 88%
“Ohmygod!” I flinch back, nearly jumping on the cushions, and hit Lo’s arm repeatedly. “You’re eighty-eight percent!”
Confused wrinkles crease his forehead. “Eighty-eight percent what?”
I frown, not sure how to phrase it. “Eighty-eight percent of a winner against your brother…”
He tosses his paperback comic onto the coffee table and leans into me to read the article. He laughs and meets my eyes. “I guess those rumors will start ending now.”
I didn’t even realize…but yeah, they will. If people are starting to believe that Lo and I are an actual, real couple, not for appearance or for publicity but because we’re in love, then they’ll forget about Ryke as a three-way option.
Today is a good day.
“Lily, Lo!” Rose calls from the bottom of the stairs. We both turn our heads. Her expression flips between concern and pure rage.
Any momentary smile just vanishes in an instant.
“Can you come up here for a minute? We need to talk to you both.”
We?
Lo and I exchange looks. We’re both clueless what this could be about. For all I know, they’re calling us upstairs for a surprise party…
Fat chance.
{ 30 }
0 years : 08 months
April
LOREN HALE
What the fuck is happening?
The thought plays on repeat while Lily and I sit on Connor and Rose’s bed. The longer he spills these details, the more darkness spreads over my face, clinging to my emotions like tar. My leg jostles in irritation and anxiety while Lily shakes her head, as if their words are nothing but wrong.
Connor and Rose locked up their alcohol—a bottle of wine and tequila—and it went missing.
I sense where this is headed, even before Connor says, “We found the empty bottle at the bottom of your closet.”
Their eyes, along with my brother’s, drill into me. Questioningly. Accusingly.
It’s not true, but I have no fucking evidence. Why would my word hold up? I’m the addict. I’m untrustworthy. Anything I do or say won’t matter because it could all be a lie.
It’s why I remain quiet. It’s why my heated gaze stays fixed on the wall. Through my silence, Lily begins to defend me. “He would have thrown up if he drank!” she yells. “He’s on Antabuse.”
I rub my lips to hide a grimace. I should have told her that I quit taking the pills. Christ. I should have fucking told her.
I bury my anguish beneath confusion, trying to piece together who put the alcohol in my closet. But it’s not a difficult problem to solve. Scott wants drama. He’s received plenty from us, despite his declaration to play nice.
“Are you still taking it?” Ryke asks me.
His words push the wrong button. Hate sears my lungs. “Shouldn’t you know that? You count my pills.” My harsh voice hurts my ears. I hate this.
I hate that I’m going on the defensive, but it’s the easiest mode to be in.
Rose almost steps forward in retaliation, but Connor places his hands on her waist to keep her calm.
Ryke scratches the back of his neck. “I stopped because I was trying to trust you.”
Why are you such a fuck up, Loren? My eyes start to burn. “I don’t even know why you ask me,” I say. “You already think I drank.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”
Connor cuts in to ease the situation. “We can squash this really easily. We haven’t seen you sick these past couple weeks. All you have to do is show us your pills so we know that you’re taking them.”
I can’t. They’ll hate me. I don’t need to see their disappointment. “It’s not your fucking body, Connor,” I sneer. Why can’t they just leave me alone? It’d be so much easier. “This doesn’t affect anyone in the room but me and maybe Lil. I don’t have to tell you shit.” I stand, about to leave this all behind me.
I can’t look back at Lily. I just storm towards the exit, but Rose steps in my path, stretching her arms on the door frame to physically block me. I don’t need this right now, not from her.
“Your addiction affects everyone in this room,” she nearly yells. “If you can’t see that—”