Addicted for Now (11 page)

After ten minutes, I regret drinking two mochas this
morning. I have the worst urge to pee, and that means spending time alone in
the bathroom. And hello, I’m aroused too, and the allure of self-love is
overpowering like a drug.
 

I cannot squirm any longer in my seat. I don’t want to
attract more unnecessary attention to myself. So I stand and walk tentatively
to the bathroom past both Trish and Katie’s work stations. I look over my
shoulder just once, and I spot all the models pulling on sport’s coats,
button-downs, collared shirts and golf shorts, all of the clothes tailored and
chic.

Lo meets my gaze. He’s full of questioning. I mouth,
bathroom.
He nods, but he must see the
need creeping over me like a cancer because his worry never disappears. But I
can wait to have sex. I’ll be fine, I try to convince myself.

I shut the door behind me, and after I finish on the toilet,
I touch my panties, about to raise them around my thighs. But I hesitate for
one strong second. Because the place between my legs throbs so badly, and I
remember the blissful feeling if I just touch once. I’ll be floating. I want
that.

I shut my eyes and spend a great deal of time in a mental
battle. I end up pulling on my panties, but my jeans stay around my ankles. I
close the toilet lid and sit on the maroon suede covering. The bathroom smells
like pine and cranberries, a glass vase of potpourri emitting the aroma.

It makes leaving ten times harder.

And then the door opens.
I
forgot to lock it!
I internally shriek. I struggle with my jeans.
“Someone’s in here!” I shout, but the body slips inside anyway.

With his back to me, Lo locks the door and then turns
around, catching me frozen—with my jeans midway up my legs, with the toilet
seat closed.

“I didn’t…” I start. Does he believe me?

I wouldn’t. I’ve been caught with my pants down.

It looks like I didn’t even try to wait. It looks like I
gave up.

{ 10 }

LOREN HALE

I rub my lips, not sure what to make of Lily sitting
on the toilet lid with her jeans halfway up her ankles. I worry about her heavy
breath and the shakiness of her hands. She’s an addict who needs her next fix.

“Lo, I didn’t,” she says again.

And I believe her this time. Tears threaten to spill down
her cheeks, and I rush to her before she has a major breakdown. I squat to
match her height, and I place my hands on her knees. “Hey, shh.” I cup her face
and rub a fallen tear with my thumb. “You’re okay.”

She shakes her head.

“Can you wait?” I ask her. “You have five more hours.”

She shudders.

I can’t watch her crumble like this. My lungs constrict, my
whole chest clenching.

“You should go back,” she says. “You’re working.”

I’ve changed out of the Calloway Couture clothes, and I wear
my regular black shirt and jeans. “They’re writing down the alterations for the
other models. I have time.” I’m supposed to be putting on my second outfit, but
Rose is preoccupied with measurements and test shots. She won’t miss me for
long.

Lily stares at her hands in her lap, barely meeting my eyes.
“I can wait,” she says under her breath, so meek that I don’t believe her for a
second.

“Can you?” I ask.

She nods and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. I
tuck her hair behind her ear, wanting so badly to pull her into my arms and to
make it all better. But that’s not how this new chapter of our lives is
supposed to go, is it?

“I didn’t have sex for three whole months,” she says softly.
“What’s five hours?”

“This is different.”

“Why?” she asks, her chin quivering. She so badly wants to
grab me. I can see it in the way her eyes flit over my body for a brief moment.
She catches herself and stares back at the floor.

“Because I wasn’t there,” I tell her. “You didn’t have the
opportunity to touch me. It was easier.” I imagine three months without me was
like being locked in a house without booze. If there’s nothing to drink, then
you’re not going to get drunk. But there are always liquor stores. The same way
there are always other guys to fuck. She also had the option to touch herself,
but she’s eliminated that completely. She stuck to her vows.

And I know that if I leave her like this, she’ll break one
by masturbating. She can’t last five hours, and she won’t ask me to have sex
with her. So she’ll be drawn to the next best thing, thinking that self-love is
the right solution. She won’t cheat on me. She’ll just cheat on herself.

So while she sniffs and wipes her tears, I rack my mind for
that damn blacklist with the therapist’s rules. My head is fuzzy, distracted by
Lily’s constant trembling and the way her knees begin to turn inward.

“Lo,” she cries. “I think you should leave.”

My chest falls. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And before she can refute, I kiss her. I part her lips with
my tongue, and she clenches my shirt, her soft moans like
thank yous.
Each one drives me harder, and my movements become as
hungry as hers. I lift her in my arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around
my waist. And I knock her back into the wall. Her voice is lost in the base of
my neck, her forehead pressing to my shoulder.

“I need you,” she whispers, panicked. “Please…” The fear in
her voice cuts a new scar.

“Shh, love.” I rub my hand through the back of her hair, and
I nip her ear with my teeth. She shudders against me. I want her to release,
but I feel like there’s no winning with this one. If I let her go, she’ll
masturbate. If I fuck her, she’ll hate herself. If I make her come, she’ll
still be filled with shame and guilt for not lasting five hours.

There is no right answer, no fucking break. And so each
stroke against her flesh is seared with tension and a strong ache, my heart
pounding like a jackhammer to cement.

And I kiss her again, my lips swelling beneath her
eagerness, her insistency to push deeper, to go farther. She runs her bitten
nails across my back, not sharp enough to draw blood, not even long enough to
truly scratch, but she digs her fingers into my skin. She grips so fiercely, as
though I am two seconds from dropping her. From saying no.

My brain clicks, and the blacklist isn’t hazy anymore.
We can’t do this
. I retract my lips from
her, and I don’t meet her eyes.

I fucked up.

I want to punch the wall. I want to scream. More than
anything, I want to go sit at a bar and forget the road I was about to pull
Lily down. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Lo…”

I bring her to her feet, and she wobbles unsteadily. I keep
a hand on her waist, but there’s considerable amount of distance between us.

“What did I do…?” Her high-pitched voice lurches my stomach.

“Nothing,” I say, tucking another piece of hair behind her
ear.

“Then we can do something…” She grips my shirt again,
clenching the fabric between two panicked fists.

I pry her fingers from me. “We can’t have sex here, and I
can’t touch you here either.” But she can’t wait until tonight.

She nods rapidly. And as the news settles with her, she
pulls her shoulders back like I’ve seen Rose often do. She raises her chin,
trying to be strong. Christ, I want to her kiss her for it and to apologize for
tempting her even more. I should have taken her to our house where we can have
sex. In fact, that’s what we’re going to do now.

“Grab your stuff,” I tell her. “We’re going home, and I’ll
make you come there.” My tone isn’t sexy. It’s clinical. I just want her to be
able to wait until we reach our bedroom.

I find her jeans on the ground, and I help put her legs in
each pant hole.

“Wait,” she says.

I don’t want to give her the chance to convince me to have
sex with her in the bathroom. It’s not happening. I already screwed up by
arousing her more—I don’t need to break anything on that blacklist.

Public sex—yeah, that’s not fucking allowed.

I zip up her jeans and fish the button through, towering
over her with dominance that makes her squirm. I want to kiss her. God, I just
want to hold her. But instead of drawing towards Lily, I have to draw back.

“Wait,” she says again, more forceful this time. She grabs
my wrist to stop me. “You’re not going home.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I say. I don’t add that I don’t trust
her. Her fingers may slip into her panties; she may give herself what I’ve
denied.

“You’re
working
,”
she reminds me, tears building again. “I’m not ruining your first job.” She
inhales a strong breath and adds, “I’ll stay at my desk, and when you’re done
working, we can go.”

I hesitate.

“You should only be one more hour. I can wait that long.”

“Plus the ride home,” I remind her.

She nods quickly. “Yes, yes.”

I like this option. Mostly because Lily came up with the
idea, and it’ll lessen whatever guilt she’ll feel for not being able to wait tonight.
“Okay.” I kiss her cheek. And she sighs, but as she walks to the door, the
tension becomes apparent in the way her thighs press together.

I lead her out of the bathroom, and we enter the loft space
where Trish and Katie fling clothes at one another, fixing the garments on the
models quickly. I look around for Rose, but she’s nowhere in sight.

Lily keeps her eyes pinned to the desk and nowhere else.
“I’ll be okay,” she says, more to herself than me.

“I know you will.”

I watch her make the short journey to her desk. She slides
into her chair and studies her computer screen, focused and concentrated. Maybe
it’s all a façade. But I know she’s trying damn hard.

I need to find Rose to tell her that I’m leaving right after
I finish with the fitting. There aren’t many places she could be. Besides her
glass office, there’s only the backroom. I saunter down the short hallway, my
shoulders stiff. I stuff my fists in my pockets so they’ll stop shaking. I feel
high on fear and concern, my adrenaline spiked badly. I just need a drink.

Her icy voice echoes from an open door. I rest my arm on the
frame, my eyes darting around the dimly lit area that’s filled with marked
boxes, racks of clothes, and clear plastic tubs. Rose has her back to me, a
phone pressed to her ear.

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you right now. We
have a photo shoot next week and a runway show in two months—”

 
“Which is precisely
why I called.” I’d recognize Samantha Calloway’s biting voice from the fucking
moon. I’m not surprised that she called her daughter. She’s been involved with
Rose’s company from its birth.

“Don’t start,” Rose warns her. “This isn’t going to end
well, Mother.”

“You’re right. It’s not going to end well for you. I have
helped your father market Fizzle for twenty years. What you’re doing is going
to
ruin
Calloway Couture.”

“He’s just a model!” Rose shouts. “He’s not the face of the
company.”

I freeze.

“He’s an alcoholic,” Samantha retorts. “And his face will be
plastered in magazines and billboards next to your brand. Your company will
suffer for it.”

It suddenly feels hot in here. I tug at the collar to my
shirt. Why is it so fucking hot?

“And who sees Loren Hale and immediately thinks
alcoholic?
Your friends? Because I sure
as hell don’t know anyone else in this fucking country who would give a shit.”
Venom laces Rose’s words.

“Don’t speak to me that way. I’m your mother, and it’s my
job to give you advice.”

“I hear it,” Rose says. “Your advice, while I know you mean
well, is judgmental and cold. Loren will be a model in the campaign. He’ll be
in photos, runway shows and commercials, so if you have a problem with that,
then turn off the television, divert your eyes, but don’t scold me.”

Samantha Calloway sighs. “Is there anything that can change
your mind, Rose? You’re making a very big mistake.”

“Nothing,” she says.

“Well then, I’ll see you Sunday.” She pauses. “I’m sorry I
yelled.”

Rose sighs just as heavily. “Me too.” They both hang up, and
when Rose spins around, she jumps back, her hand to her chest in surprise. “Lo,
I…”

“Don’t,” I say with a bitter smile that turns into a
grimace. “Look, I didn’t know that my role in your company would impact you
nega—”

“It doesn’t,” she interjects. “She’s just overdramatic.”

All these feelings scorch my insides, and if I don’t speak
my mind now, I’m going to be driven down the street to a place I shouldn’t go.
“Your mother is right,” I tell her, the words sinking low. “And I won’t screw
with your career just because I need some cash. I’ll find another way.”

“Don’t,” Rose tells me now. She holds a manicured finger
directly at my face. “You’re
staying
.”

“I’m not.” I can’t stay. I can’t fuck up another Calloway’s
life with my problems. Lily is so much a part of me that there’s no
disentangling from her now, but Rose—I’m not going to trap her inside my vice.
I’m not going to lead her down this dark path that I walk on.

I turn to leave, and Rose grabs my arm. “You need this job.”

I jerk out of her grip. “I appreciate your help, I do, but
you have to let me go.”

“I can’t,” she says with such determination. “I promised you
this job, and you’d still be here if it wasn’t for that phone call.”

I shrug. “Yeah? Shit happens, Rose. One day, I was an only
child, and the next, I have a brother and an empty bank account. I’ve learned
to deal.” I’m about to cross through the door, but she slides in front of me,
blocking my exit.

“I won’t beg you to stay,” she tells me.

“Good,” I snap. “Then we have an understanding.” I go to
pass her, but she extends her arm, trapping me. “Rose.”

“You haven’t even tried, Loren. You’re giving up.”

Veins pulse in my neck, and I lean in low. “Rose,” I sneer,
“for a girl that cannot stomach a crying baby, who wouldn’t be able to
empathize with a child if she tugged on your goddamn sleeve, you
really
should stop trying to understand
the human race.” My words cut deep. Rose has been incredibly open-minded since
she learned about Lily’s addiction. She’s been there for her every single
minute of the day, and I know she would drop her whole schedule if I asked her
to.

But I just need her to let me go—to realize that she’s lost
this battle. For a girl who always wins, that’s a tough one to swallow.

Rose purses her lips and then she relents by edging out of
the doorway. “If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.” I can’t even tell her thank you. I realize I am
back to square one. Jobless and without a real plan.

“I’ll write you a check for your time today.”

I nod. “Just don’t overpay. I’ll be able to tell.” If anyone
is going to
accidentally
hand out
more money, it’s going to be Rose and Connor. But I don’t want to accept their
charity. Not because I’m too prideful. I just want to prove to myself that I
can do this on my own.

Her eyes darken, so I know that’s exactly what she planned
on doing. I pat her arched shoulder, and I head back into the main room. Lily’s
forehead is almost pressed to the computer. I walk up to her, noticing that her
nose touches the screen.

I smile. God, I can’t believe I’m
smiling
after all that has happened. The fact that this girl can
upturn my lips after such a bad day makes me never want to let her go. “Are you
planning on eating your spreadsheet?” I ask her. “Or are you trying to
disappear into cyberspace?”

Her cheeks rose, and she leans back. “I was making sure my
numbers were right.” Her eyes trail my body. “Shouldn’t you be in a collared
shirt?”

“Nah,” I say. “It’s not my style.” I reach out and hold her
hand. “Come on, let’s go.”