Addicted for Now (4 page)

He can see straight through me.

My cheeks redden, and I immediately overturn my hasty judgments.
There’s no way Connor would sell me out. He finds cheating too easy, and he’s
more moral than 99% of our family’s social circle. So that leaves Ryke. And
Rose. But Rose would be more likely to burn her entire fashion line—Calloway
Couture—than throw me to the cannibalistic media. And she loves her collection
like a mother does a baby.

Lo isn’t so quick to let Connor go free. “Did you tell
anyone?” he asks.

“No one,” he says calmly.

Lo scratches the back of his neck. “We spent
years
without anyone knowing Lily’s
secret. Then she tells you guys, and a few months later, she’s being threatened
about it. I may have dropped out of college, but I can fucking add those pieces
together.”

Connor looks him over once. “You were expelled from college,
but it’s nice to hear that you’re taking accountability.”

Somehow that insult didn’t seem so bad. It’s all true.

Penn kicked Lo out after he stopped showing up to class, and
he could have attended another college, but he decided to go to rehab and work
on getting sober instead.
 

Lo sighs heavily, frustrated. He just wants answers. I think
we all do.

“You’re missing a piece,” Connor tells him.

Lo tenses, and a little bit of hope surges through me. If
anyone can uncover this mystery, it’ll be Connor Cobalt. And most likely Rose
too.

“Lily just started seeing a sex therapist that specializes
in addiction.”

“You think someone saw her go into the office?” Lo asks.

“It’s probable. Why don’t you try tracing the number?”

“It’s unknown.”

“So?”

“I’m sorry. Hacking into phone numbers just isn’t in my
repertoire. Lily, you?” He looks to me, and I shake my head. “Didn’t think so.”

“Oh, no,” Connor says quickly, “I know you can’t do
something that difficult. I just thought maybe you knew someone who could.”

Ryke cuts in, “You’re actually admitting you can’t do
something, Cobalt?” He looks about ready to jump off the Queen Anne and call
the press. Oh wait, he is the press. Maybe he’ll write an article about it
tomorrow in
The Philadelphia Chronicle
and
title it: “Connor Cobalt Doesn’t Know Everything!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Connor says, poker-faced. “I
know
how to do it. But I won’t. It’s
illegal.”

Ryke rolls his eyes and grips his water bottle tighter. I
guess that article won’t be happening.

Rose takes a dainty sip from her tea and says, “It’s still
illegal if you pay someone to do it for you.”

“And if you’re smart about it, you won’t be caught.”

That thing I said about Connor being moral? Scratch that. He
masks his emotions so much that I didn’t see his cunning ways. Still, I don’t
think he would risk losing Rose for a seat at Wharton. At least, I hope not.

“Lo and I already discussed tracing the number,” I speak up.
“All my contacts know my family. My parents would start asking questions if I
hired a private investigator.” And the whole goal is to keep them in the dark
as long as possible. I’m thinking
forever
is a good amount of time.

Lo nods. “We also don’t want to involve any unreliable third
parties. I don’t want to be screwed over by them.”

I perk up as I think of an example. “Like a hacker that
lives in his parent’s basement.”

“Yeah,” Lo says. “I don’t see that going very well.”

“I have a trustworthy PI that I can hire,” Connor says.
“That’s not a problem.”

Rose smiles into her last sip of tea.

“I’ll pay you back,” I tell Connor.

“I prefer favors.”

Okay, that sounds sexual. When I think of favors, I picture
blow jobs.

My face immediately heats, and I try looking away but
everyone is already staring at me. I’m doomed.

“Lily!” I hear three voices in varying pitches chastise me. Lo
puts an arm over my shoulder and I restrain myself from hiding in his bicep. I
will not cower.

I point to Connor accusingly. “He said it, not me!”

“I wasn’t talking about
sexual
favors,” Connor refutes calmly.
 

I point to my chest now. “Sex addict, here. My brain has an
automatic setting. I’m not going to be thinking
party
favors.”

Bringing up the words
sex
addict
was a bad idea, and I regret it as soon as Ryke says, “Speaking of
being a sex addict.” I could punch him. “How’s your recovery going to work now
that Lo’s back? Are you two allowed to have sex together?”

“It’s complicated,” I mutter. “And I don’t think I should be
discussing it with
you
.”

“She can have some sex,” Lo clarifies, apparently
un-complicating it.

I want to disintegrate just a little.

“What is
some
sex?” Ryke asks.

Okay, a lot—I want to disintegrate a lot, a lot.

“I can’t talk about it,” Lo says evasively. But really he
means:
I can’t talk about it in front of
Lily.
Because I have no idea what
“some”
entails either. It’s going to drive me bonkers.

I also don’t like that Lo is so quick to share intimate
details of our private lives, but I guess he’s trying to be better about
opening up. And it must be easier to focus on my addiction than his own.

“What happens if you start enabling her?” Rose asks, setting
her teacup on the table.

“I won’t,” Lo says with an added glare.

I wish I could conquer my addiction by myself, but my
therapist already explained that abstinence isn’t the answer since sex is a
natural part of life, unlike alcohol. A person can go forever without tasting
liquor, but almost everyone has sex when they reach a certain age. And sex
involves two people.

So I have to learn how to have a healthy sex life with Lo
instead of the one where he feeds into my compulsions. And I can work on being
more self-reliant without turning to self-love.

I sigh. It’s all so complicated. It all feels so hard.

“This isn’t the same as Lily giving you a glass of whiskey,
Loren,” Rose says. “We’ll all be able to tell if you drink, but none of us will
have a clue if you’re enabling her.” Because that means he’ll let me fuck him
exactly how I want, when I want. I’ll be so high and so full of Loren Hale that
I won’t ever want to leave the bedroom and meet real life.

It sounds so much better than it should.

“You didn’t know I was an alcoholic for years,” Lo refutes.
“Believe me, you won’t know if I fall off the wagon one time. It’s the same.”

“I’ll be able to tell,” Ryke says.

“And me,” Connor adds. “I had no clue Lily was addicted to
sex, but it didn’t take more than a day for me to figure out that you had an
alcohol problem.”

Ryke scratches his hard jaw, cut like stone. “You knew he
was addicted, and you drank beer with him? In fact, I saw you buying him Fat
Tire at a bar.”

“He’s a true friend,” Lo says with a bitter smile. He says
things just to agitate people, I swear.
 

Ryke looks like he wants to stand up and smack the back of
his head.

Rose spins on Connor, and he doesn’t cower beneath her penetrating
gaze. “You knew and you drank
beer
with
him?”

“I just met him. I wasn’t planning to revolutionize his
life.”

“You mean you saw what made him happy, and you gladly
enticed him with it to become his friend.”

Lo cuts in, “You’re acting like he shot me up with heroine.”

“He may as well have,” Ryke retorts.

Okay, when did this meeting become a platform to gang up on
Connor?

“Just drop it,” Lo snaps.

Connor stays quiet, and Rose doesn’t look like she’s ready
to forgive him so easily. I’m sure they’ll have a whole philosophical
discussion about it later.

And unfortunately, she remembers the source of our argument.

“Your addiction, Lo, is not the same as Lily’s,” she says. “When
you weren’t here, supporting Lily was simple. Now that you’re back, I feel like
you’re the only person allowed to be involved in her recovery process. And how
healthy is that? You just got out of rehab.”

Should I even be here for this conversation? It feels beyond
me, even though they’re talking
about
me.

His voice softens considerably, losing the usual edge. “I
don’t know what you want me to do. I’m her boyfriend. She’s a sex addict. Of
course I’m going to be the most involved in getting her healthy. I know what
you’re saying. I know what you’re
all
saying.” He looks to Ryke and Connor. “I can’t tell you to just trust me, not
when I have twenty-one years of being a shitty person on my record. But this
situation is weird and unconventional and really, really fucked up. And we’re
going to have to figure out how to do it.”

I stare at my hands, a little uncomfortable but also a
little grateful they’re not talking behind my back.

“All I want,” Rose tells him, “is for you to not close us
all out. If you think you’re doing something wrong or you can’t handle it,
don’t just ignore it. You have to tell someone, and it doesn’t have to be me.
If you feel more comfortable talking to Ryke or Connor or even the therapist,
whoever. I just don’t want Lily to suffer because you can’t reach out.”

I understand her fears. We’ve isolated ourselves for so long
that closing everyone off would be a natural regression. I just never really
thought about it outright.

“I promise.”

She looks a little taken aback by how easily he relented.

“We both want the same thing,” Lo reminds her.

For the first time Lo and Rose seem to agree on something,
but it only puts an insane amount of pressure on me. They may think Lo will
enable me. But I fear I’ll screw everything up all on my own.

{ 4 }

LILY CALLOWAY

Ryke
and
Connor leave after we establish a plan to track down the texter. Connor will
call his private investigator and then the rest of us will start making a list
of Lo’s enemies. I just hope I don’t see my face on the cover of
People
tomorrow.

Lo is already in bed when I shut the bathroom door. The lamp
bathes him in a warm light, and he looks content as he scribbles in a journal.
The nightstand seems so bare without his glass of whiskey. We’re both going
through a monumental change, and we haven’t even discussed our futures or
anything serious since he’s been back. The texts kind of sent us into an
immediate tailspin.

His gaze rises from his journal, and he studies me as I
stand in the middle of the room, unsure about what to do. Back at Penn, after
we became an official couple, I slept in his bed almost every night. But we
didn’t cuddle. He didn’t whisper sweet-nothings in my ear until I dozed off. We
fucked until I passed out, and then he’d finish off his drink and follow suit.

I’ve lasted three months without sex, but I also didn’t have
him here, in bed with me. The equivalent for Lo would be snuggling with a
bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Cuddling with my own vice seems dangerous, but I can’t
be abstinent forever. I have to figure how to do this the right way.
 

“What’s wrong?” he asks and closes his journal, the pen
sticking from the pages.

“We’re not going to have sex tonight?” I ask for the third
time today.

“No, love, not tonight.”

I try to let the words sink in again, but they hurt and my
chest tightens in return. It feels like rejection even though it shouldn’t. “Maybe
I should sleep on the couch,” I say softly. “Until I get used to you being
back.”
Until I can stop thinking about you
inside of me.

“I can handle you, Lil. I won’t let you break your vows.”

My vows. The four personal rules I set for myself, unlike
the blacklist that my therapist set for me.

No porn.

No masturbation.

Less compulsivity
during sex.

And never, ever cheat on
Loren Hale.

How can four simple tasks feel so out of my control?
Especially the third one. I hear what he’s saying, I do. But somewhere between
his lips and my ears, everything distorts and my insecurities win out.

“I can be very persuasive,” I mutter.
 

His lips rise. “I think I’ll survive.”

“You’re a guy,” I remind him—as if this changes
everything
.

He full-on grins. “That, I’m aware of.”

My anxiety peaks, unable to even relish in his sexy smile.
“But if I’m on the couch, I won’t be tempted. And…and when I’m in bed with you,
I know I’ll try to have sex with you, even when I know I shouldn’t.”

“Lily—”

“And I don’t want to be weak and begging, but it’s
inevitable, right? You’re like my crack.”

“Lil—”

“That’s me: the pathetic, horny girl who jumps her boyfriend
and keeps on doing it when he says
no.
”
I gasp. “Oh my God. I’m like a rapist. I’ll try to rape you every night.”

 
He touches my cheeks
and I flinch back instantly.

“Whoa! When did you get over here?” My heart pounds so hard
that it beats like a drum in my ears.

He doesn’t move away, his hands cup my face tenderly, his
eyes full of raw concern.

“Did you get a superpower in rehab?” I ask in a small voice,
already knowing the truth. I freaked out to a new degree, not even noticing him
climb off the bed.

“Yeah,” he whispers, so close to me now. “Just not the one
you think.” He brushes off an escaped tear with his thumb. “You’re sick.”

I inhale a strained breath. The words from his lips are soul-crushing,
even though they’re true. I try and jerk away but his hand slides down the back
of my neck. The other one on my shoulder keeps me rooted here.

“I’m sick too,” he says, “and there will be times where
we’re weak. Where we beg for the things we can’t have. But you can’t be scared
of that, Lil. You can’t live your life sleeping on a couch because of it. You
just have to believe that you’ll be strong enough in the end. Even if the
middle is all fucked up.”

No distortion of his words this time. I understand him. I
close the distance between us and bury my head into his chest.

He holds onto me and kisses the top of my head. “And you’re
not a rapist.” I can sense him smiling. “You’re my girlfriend who can’t control
her compulsions.”

“I like that better,” I mumble. We stay still for a little
while, and I let him rub the back of my head until my pulse eases to a
temperate rhythm. Why does something so small, like sleeping in a bed, have to
be such a challenge?

I detach from his warm body and climb into bed, slipping
beneath the soft sheets.

He watches me as I build a pillow barricade between my side
and his. I’m sure I’ll destroy it later. I look up when I finish. “Stop
smiling,” I tell him.

“No cuddling?”

“Not tonight.”

“That’s my line.”

I sit halfway up as he stores his journal in the nightstand
drawer. “You learned a lot in rehab, huh?” A part of me thinks I missed out on
a secret to beating addiction. Lo seems to know more than me or at least his
confidence level towers over mine. But I couldn’t go to rehab. Not without
outing my secret to my family, and anyway, group therapy doesn’t sound like the
right avenue for me.

Now that we’re home, Lo decided not to attend AA meetings.
Even Ryke said he shouldn’t go to them. I don’t understand why that is. And Lo
doesn’t share much about his recovery, but he did say that he’s still going to
see his therapist regularly—one that lives in New York. Some days I have to
pinch myself to believe that he went to rehab only an hour from Princeton. I’m
glad I didn’t know. I probably would have found a way to see him when I wasn’t
supposed to.

“I learned enough there,” he tells me, sliding his legs
under the covers. “And I plan to teach you everything I know.”

I smile. That sounds nice. I lie back down as he leans over
and yanks the cord to the lamp, blanketing the room in darkness.

There’s something invigorating about the dead of night. How,
right before you go to sleep, your mind springs awake. My thoughts flood all at
once. Between the threatening texts and my barely passing grades in Princeton,
I’m overflowing with anxiety. Not to mention that with Lo back, his problems
seem to become mine. He’s broke, jobless, and has quit college. His
relationship with his father was already complicated, now I don’t even know if
he’ll have one at all.

 
I have more problems
than I can solve in one night. I shut my eyes, willing on sleep. But it stays
locked away. Great, I’ve conquered getting
into
bed but now I can’t even sleep.

I roll onto my side and pull down the top pillow in my
pillow-barricade. It’s enough to see Lo’s face. He turns a fraction, and with
my eyes adjusted to the dark, I can see him pretty clearly. “Did you learn a
trick to fall asleep?” I whisper.

“Don’t think about anything.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Then try picturing a fuzzy television.”

“Do you not remember
The
Ring
? If I try that then a girl is going to crawl out of the imaginary TV
and slaughter my subconscious.”

I expect him to laugh but his voice turns serious. “How did
you fall asleep when I wasn’t here?”

I go quiet. It varied nightly. Some were spent crying myself
to sleep, others I masturbated until I passed out. When I gave up self-love, it
took me hours to doze off the proper way, and in the end I resigned to
fantasies to distract me into a light slumber.
 

“Normally,” I end up saying, even if the word reminds me of
Connor and Rose’s argument earlier. “It just takes me awhile. I’ll try the
fuzzy television trick. Maybe it won’t be so scary.”

We roll away from each other again, and I close my eyes. I
can’t picture the TV long enough to stop my thoughts. I remember how easily it
is to fall asleep after some self-love. It’s the best natural sleeping pill in
the world.

My hand rests on my stomach, and I lower my fingers until I
touch the hem of my pajama shorts. The impulse bites me and writhes in my
belly. I hear that little voice telling me it’ll be okay. That I can do it this
once and Lo won’t even know. I’ll stealthily slip my fingers into my panties
and just rub my clit until everything feels better. I’ll climax and then fall
asleep.

The steps prepared for me are just so easy to follow. My
fingers slide beneath my cotton shorts and onto the top of my underwear. I
flick my fingers up and down outside of them, trying to gain the courage to go
further…or stop. But I somehow always remain in purgatory, fighting for one
side or the other.

This is wrong. I know this is wrong.

“Lo,” I say very softly, thinking maybe he’ll still be asleep.
Maybe it’s fate.

“Lil, you say something?” he whispers back.

I don’t move my hand. Hell, I don’t even blink. Words tumble
in my head like a Bingo machine and I can’t seem to connect them together to
form sentences.

I must hesitate too long because he flips on the lights, and
my eyes shut quickly. I freeze, hoping he won’t notice anything under the
covers. He can’t see my hand in my shorts after all. As soon as he goes back to
sleep, I’ll stop myself from going further. I’ll make this right. I just don’t
want him to think that I didn’t conquer anything while he was away. I was
strong, dammit. I stopped looking at porn. I stopped with the self-love, and I
never once cheated on him. But he’ll only see
this
. And I can’t fix the immediate assumptions. That I’m no better
than I was when he left.

Silence bleeds into my head, and I almost think I’ve
succeeded. And then cold air prickles my skin, the blanket leaving my body. Oh
shit.

My eyes shoot open. Lo has invaded my territory, knocking
over the pillow-barricade and gripping my covers. His eyes target my
lower-half, where my hand disappears into my shorts. This is so not good.