Addicted for Now (28 page)

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LOREN HALE

The nightclub transforms into a live show,
complete with impersonators, dancers, and flying trapeze artists. A huge square-shaped
bar fills the center floor where girls dance and take body shots. Ever since I
was ill from the fish tacos, I don’t even flinch when a drink passes by. I have
no desire to be sick again.
 

The Calloway girls made a goal to drink and dance tonight,
which I translated as:
We’re getting
drunk.

Connor, Ryke, and I promised them that they could go crazy
and we’d be the responsible ones, fit to take care of them. For once, I’m on
the other side of things. And it feels pretty good.

I like knowing that I have the power to keep Lily safe.
Before, all of that seeped away with each whiskey I downed. So yeah, this is
new. But it’s a good new.

The crowds aren’t as large as the concert yesterday, and
Connor bought a balcony table so we can keep an eye on the girls. We’re seated
on the highest level, and the psychedelic lights strobe around us—well, around
Connor and me. Ryke is still in the bathroom.

I have a clear view of the three Calloway girls, all of them
hovering around the square bar. Rose carries two glasses of some pink
concoction, handing one to Daisy.

“Have you ever seen Rose drunk?” I ask Connor. The event has
to be like a lunar eclipse or something.

“I don’t think she’d allow herself to exceed her limits.”

I nod in agreement. I’ve never even seen her beyond tipsy.
“She’s probably too afraid she’ll get wasted and lose her virginity to a guy
with an IQ less than hers.”

Connor breaks his usual placid expression, his mouth opening
in slight surprise.

Oh shit. “What did I say?”

He takes a small sip of his wine and his face resumes its
normal composed regime. “I didn’t know she was a virgin.”

Shit. Fuck. Shit.
Lily is going to kill me. Hell, Rose is going to have my balls first. I should
have known better than to open my goddamn mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “I thought you knew.” I scratch
the back of my neck.

He stares at his glass and shakes his head. I can’t even
begin to guess what he’s thinking. So I have to ask. “Is this a bad thing?” My
heart crushes instantly at the thought. As much as Rose and I bicker and fight,
I’d never want to ruin her relationship. Especially not with Connor, a guy who
is pretty damn perfect for the girl.

He doesn’t say anything, and all my guilt suddenly morphs
into anger.

“Hey, she’s a virgin, not a fucking leper.” I point a finger
at him. “And if you dump her because of this then you’re a fucking prick. There
are a
million
guys who would gladly
be with Rose. For whatever reason, you met her incredibly high standards, and
if you hurt her because she’s not experienced, I swear to God, Connor, you are
going to wish you never met me.” I finish my rant, surprising myself as much as
Connor.

I’ve learned a lot about myself being sober.

I guess I’m kind of protective of Lily, Daisy, and even
Rose.
 

“Lo,” he says my name like I’m five years old and just threw
a tantrum. “I don’t care that she’s a virgin. I care that we’ve been dating for
six months and she hasn’t told me. Obviously, I’ve overestimated the progress
in our relationship.” His eyes flicker down to Rose as she sways to the music
beside Lily, and then he looks back to me. “And while I appreciate the
sentiments behind that threat, it’s really unnecessary. I have no intention of
hurting Rose.”

He pacifies me with a few sentences as if his words are
liquid morphine, but I still feel obligated to defend Rose since I divulged her
secret. “She likes you,” I say quickly. “She’s just...” She’s Rose. I don’t
know how else to explain it.

“I know.”

Of course he does. He knows everything.

“When she was twenty, I had a suspicion that she lost her
virginity to someone on her Academic Bowl team,” he opens up, sharing
information that he usually keeps to himself. “She used to slide out of hugs,
but she let him rest an arm around her shoulder. I even saw him kiss her in a
hallway. She didn’t recoil.” He shakes his head, staring at Rose from faraway.
“Turns out she was playing me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She knew I was watching. She knew that I could tell how
inexperienced she was, so she stomached whatever revulsion she had towards male
contact—just so I would form the idea that she was no longer a virgin.” He sips
his wine. “I shouldn’t be surprised. She was never ashamed of it as a teenager,
but whenever her virginity was brought up in front of me, she’d get defensive.
I think she assumed I’d use it against her.”

He sounds more genuine than usual. I wonder if this is the
real Connor Cobalt, a guy not saving face for investors or future contacts.
Just him. “You knew Rose when she was a teenager?” I ask.

Connor sets down his empty wine glass. “Since she was
fourteen. We’d both attend the circuit of academic conferences with our
schools, Model UN, Beta Club, National Honor’s Society.” I feel like I hardly
know him. We’ve been friends for months now. How could I not know
this?
“I’m a year older than her, by the
way.”

“Wait, what?” I frown. “I thought you’re twenty-two.”

“Twenty-three.”

“Were you held back as a kid or something?”

“Fifth year senior,” he says. “I triple majored, so I had to
stay an extra year at Penn to finish my courses.” He keeps his gaze on Rose.

“Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“You never asked. And really, is it that important?” I’m
beginning to think that Connor Cobalt only lets people into his life halfway.
Maybe he’s more like us than I believed.

 
We drop the subject
as Ryke returns from the bathroom. Melissa rejoins the girls on the dance
floor, which she wasn’t willing to do when we first arrived. She was clinging
to Ryke pretty fiercely, so I assume Ryke went down on her in the toilet stall.
She seems appeased at least.

I want to change the topic off of Rose’s sex life, so I say
the first thing that comes to mind. “What kind of a name is Ryke?”

He sinks into the seat beside mine, a can of Fizz Life in
his hand that I’m pretty positive doesn’t have any alcohol in it.

“It’s a middle name,” he says like I don’t know. But last
year at the Christmas Charity Gala, when he admitted to being my brother, I
made him show me his driver’s license.
Jonathan Ryke Meadows.

“What kind of a
middle
name is Ryke?” I clarify.

He lets out an aggravated noise. “What the fuck did Jonathan
give you as a middle name?”

“I don’t have one. I think he realized sticking me with
Loren was torture enough.” My name was the target for teasing in elementary school,
despite the guy-version spelling.

“Ryke,” Connor muses. “From Middle English, a variant of the
word would mean
power
or
empire
. Though, your spelling is a
little off.”

“Yeah, my father is an egotistical douchebag,” he says
roughly. “My name literally means Jonathan empire.”

I can’t help but laugh into my next sip of water. For the
first time, mine doesn’t seem so bad.

“I don’t know why you’re fucking laughing. You have a girl’s
name and no middle name.”

I flip him off.

“Speaking of names,” Connor says casually, and yet, I sense
his mischief as his eyes set on Ryke. “You realize if you ever married one of
the Calloways, she’d have a porn star name.”

“And which Calloway would that be?” I snap. “Poppy is
married, I’m dating Lily, you’re dating Rose, and Daisy is sixteen.”

“Hypothetically.”

I don’t like hypothetically, but maybe this will deter Ryke
from even thinking about a possible future. So I play into it. “Daisy Meadows,”
I say, inwardly cringing at the idea. “Sounds like someone who knows her way
around a—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Ryke glares.

“I was going to say camera. Why? What were you thinking?” My
voice remains edged and cold.

The lights flicker as the show begins to start and we both
sit back, trying to calm down. We know how to push each other’s buttons, and I
wonder if that’s a brother-thing or just because we’re both products of
Jonathan Hale.

The room darkens except for the stage and the servers—the
latter of which walk around with flashlights to take drink orders. An Elvis
impersonator struts on stage and starts singing with dancers gyrating beside
him. The oldies song is remixed so it beats with the hypnotic atmosphere.

I sit a little straighter, watching Lily who dances in a
small space with her sisters and Melissa. The lights flash brightly,
illuminating the dance floor in a wave of colors.

It doesn’t take long for some guy to approach Lily from
behind. I stiffen but stay in my seat, trusting her as I should. His hands slide
along her hips, and all these memories of seeing her dance with strange guys
flood me cold. I would settle at the bar, keeping a trained eye on Lil so she
wouldn’t get hurt, watching as she led some half-witted man to the bathroom. And
I’d drown my misery in Maker’s Mark.

As soon as his hands plant on her, his fingers slipping
underneath the hem of her blouse and another falling to her skirt, she flinches
and darts right into Daisy’s chest. I can’t help but smile. Some months ago,
she would have played into his advances. Finally, she’s chosen me.

But my happiness is popped when the guy approaches her, not
taking the clear hint. His half-lidded, droopy gaze drives worry into my gut.
He is drunk and definitely prepared to dance right on Lily’s ass again.

I’m about to rise and descend to the dance floor, but Daisy
shoves his arm hard and points a finger in his face—a Rose move that I wouldn’t
think possible from the youngest Calloway.

I glance at Ryke, and he rubs his lips, curiosity swimming
in his eyes. She intrigues him as much as her actions concern him. The mix is
not good, and I don’t need to remind him of that. He’s heard me shout it in
brutal warning.

Lily slinks behind Daisy’s body and then spins around,
looking up and meeting my gaze. She gives me a small wave and then turns back
to her sister. Daisy physically moves him out of their area. He has his hands
up in peace, but he’s staring at her breasts that are pushed up in a short
strapless dress. He licks his bottom lip.

“This is killing me,” Ryke says under his breath.

“You can’t play hero to her,” I remind him. “If she was in
trouble, I’d go down there. You can’t.”

He runs his hands through his hair and sits forward with his
hands on his legs, watching carefully.

Daisy thrusts the guy back again, and then she gestures to a
group of girls in bandage dresses about ten feet away. She breaks from Rose and
Lily’s side to bring him over to the girls who bounce up and down. He’s too
obliterated to protest, and it’s not long before he’s mesmerized by four more
sets of tits.

He forgets about Daisy, and she leaves him to return to her
sisters easily.

Lily hugs Daisy in thanks and whispers something in her ear.
Both girls smile wide before they laugh.

“Do you trust her?” Connor asks me. I’m sure I look ready to
spring down there and glare at any guy who so much as hits on Lily. But I don’t
want to be that guy, the one who is so insanely overprotective that he
suffocates a woman. There’s a happy medium somewhere. And it does come with
trusting her.

“She’s a sex addict,” I remind him.

“Does correlation warrant causation in this instance?”
Connor asks.

“English.”
 

“Does being a sex addict automatically make her
untrustworthy?”

“I don’t know,” I say, “but I’ve spent more time seeing her
with other guys than being with her, so I guess I can understand how it might
be natural—for her—to just fall back into that.”

“To cheat,” Ryke clarifies.

I give him a glare. “Yeah,” I snap, “but if it happens, it
happens, right?” Even the thought, though, devastates me.

“I don’t think it will,” Ryke says.

I jerk back in shock. He’s never been an advocate for Lily.
“And why is that?”

“Because I think she loves you more than she loves sex. And
you love her more than you love alcohol, but you two just haven’t let yourselves
believe it yet.”

Maybe he’s right, but allowing myself to process that is
harder than it seems.
 

Female servers start carrying out blue glowing bottles on
the dance floor, flashlights held underneath the bottom to add the luminosity
effect. They offer willing guys and girls straight shots. One of the servers stands
in front of Rose and Daisy.

“They aren’t…” I say with furrowed brows. Do they know what
they’re about to drink? I thought they wanted to get crazy-fun wasted, not
“holy shit, what’s that” wasted. But they have to know what they’re drinking.
Rose probably has the highest IQ in the club—not counting Connor. If I
recognize the alcohol, she would too.

 
I watch Daisy nod excitedly,
and my stomach tosses as she leans back against the bar. We’re going to have
our work cut out for us tonight…

The server pours the liquid into her mouth, and Daisy spills
not a drop. She licks her lips and motions to Rose. She goes next, without much
prodding from Daisy. Maybe all the lights and music have warped her mind.
 

She finishes off the first shot, and surprisingly, she leans
back for another.

One of my short-term goals is coming true. Rose Calloway is
definitely going to be drunk tonight.

I’m not as happy about it as I thought I’d be.

“What kind of liquor is that?” Connor asks. My whole face
falls. Wait, if Connor can’t tell…

“Look who doesn’t know something,” Ryke pipes in, capitalizing
on Connor’s question.