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I seriously had nightmares about it.” I grimace. “About me getting raped?” “That’s why they’re called nightmares, Lily. They’re not supposed to be pleasant.”
If my mother knew my serious problem, she’d send me away for rehab and counseling until I was fixed up nicely. I don’t want to be fixed. I just want to live and feed my appetite.
Obviously he wants Nola to think he’s an upstanding boyfriend, but the only girlfriend Loren Hale will ever treat well is his bottle of bourbon.
He observes me. Every little movement. And my heart speeds. “Is she watching us?” I whisper, wondering why he suddenly looks like he wants to devour me. It’s part of our lie, I remind myself. This isn’t real. But it feels real. His hands on me. His warmth on my soft skin. He licks his bottom lip and leans closer to whisper, “In this moment, I’m yours.” His hands run through the armholes of my shirt and he settles them on my bare shoulder blades. I hold my breath and immobilize. I am a statue. “And as your boyfriend,” he murmurs, “I really hate to share.”
Reading Lo’s intentions hurts my head. I trail behind, trying to unmask his true feelings. Was that pretend? Or was that real? I shake off my doubts. We’re in a three-year long fake relationship. We live together. He’s heard me orgasm from one room over. I’ve seen him sleep in his own puke. And even though our parents believe we’re one small step from engagement, we’ll never have sex again. It happened once, and that has to be enough.
“You, shower. Me, pizza. Tarzan eat Jane.” He bites my shoulder. I ease back. “You mean Tarzan likes Jane?”
The water washes away the smell and grime, but my sins are here to stay.
We shared all secrets, forming a club with a two-person quota. Together, we discovered superheroes in a small comics shop in Philly. Something about Havok’s galactic adventures and Nathaniel Grey’s time-traveling plights connected with us. At times, not even Cyclops or Emma Frost could fix our troubles, but they’re still there, reminding us of more innocent times. Ones where Lo wasn’t boozing and I wasn’t sleeping around.
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” “I’m not sure.” I have a one-track mind, and it doesn’t involve food. “That’s discomforting, Lil.” “I eat,” I defend poorly. I see him pulling my robe in my fantasy. Maybe I should drop it for him. NO! Don’t do it, Lily. I finally look up and he watches me so carefully that my face immediately begins to heat. He smiles into a sip of his glass. When he brings it down, he licks his lips. “Do you want me to unbutton them, love, or should I wait for you to get on your knees first?”
He stifles his judgment and I withhold mine, but our silence draws tension between us, inescapable. It pulls so taut that sometimes I just want to scream.
Rose: two years older, two inches taller, and two times prettier. She waltzes into the apartment, her Chanel handbag swinging on her arm like a weapon. Rose frightens children, pets, and even grown males with her icy eyes and chilling glares.
Rose turns her vulture eyes on Lo, who wipes his hands on a dish rag and tosses it aside. “What about you? Did you lose your phone too?” “No. I just don’t like talking to you.”
But Lo only had one friend throughout his adolescence. And without a male entourage, he became enemy number one for other guys. An outcast to be picked on.
Sleeping with someone who tormented Lo was one of them. I didn’t care when it happened, but afterwards, I couldn’t be more ashamed. I still am, and I wear it like a thick scar.
Some days, he can be sexy. Others, he can crush you with a glare.
“You two know each other?” “You could say that,” Lo says, finishing off another beer. He motions to the lady bartender again. “You’re not her ex or anything, are you?” the guy wonders, easing back just a little. Oh yes, please go away. Lo wraps a hand around his new Berry Beer. “She’s all yours man. Have at her.” I am slowly dying inside.
Lo, WTF man...
“Do you want something to drink?” Lo asks, concentrating on his concoction. “No. I’m going to call someone to come over. If they’re still here in the morning, can you do the usual?” He hesitates, and the bottle of bourbon freezes above his glass. “I may be passed out. I’ve been drinking shitty beer all night.” Oh. He’s about to get wasted.
Dude, this is heartbreaking if you read kiss the sky first...
His addiction is screwing with my addiction. Alcohol trumps sex is this place, and that kills me. Or at least the part of me that needs a good lay, preferably one that lasts longer than five minutes.
His addiction scares me sometimes. Alcoholism can destroy livers and kidneys, and one day, he may not wake up from a night of bingeing. But how can I tell him to stop? How can I judge him when I am nowhere near ready to let go of my crutch? So for right now, this is the best I can do.
“You’re not in my spank bank, Lo.” I think he might complain or laugh, but he looks confused and kind of hurt. I don’t have time to dig through the meaning. “Sorry then,” he snaps, agitated. He feels bad, and I suddenly wish I just played along.
“I’m kind of out of the loop.” “That is the understatement of the century,” Rose says. Poppy smiles. “Don’t be mean, Rose. You’re going to scare Lily off for another two months.” We all know who the nice sister is. Still, I can’t help but love Rose more. Maybe because we’re the closest in age or because she actively tries to be a part of my life. I see her more than I do anyone else.
Rose built Calloway Couture with our mother as a little side business when she turned fifteen. Years later, it’s grown into a profitable fashion line that Rose can call her own. I never ask about her months or her life. Yet, she always finds the time to ask about mine. “I’ve tried to call you,” Poppy continues. “For two months, and you haven’t answered. Lo hasn’t answered. If Rose doesn’t stop by and assure me that you’re alive, sometimes I wonder…” Her voice turns grave. “I can’t help but think you’ve eliminated us from your life.” I don’t dare look at her. Tears prick my eyes, burning, but I
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That’s how our relationship goes. I disappoint her. She forgives me, but never forgets, and we move on.
I frown. “Who’s Josh?” She pulls her brown hair into a pony. “My boyfriend. Of six months,” she emphasizes, her voice still light. “Sorry,” I apologize. “I just…” Am never home to see her. Or him. And I don’t listen well. “It’s okay.” I know it’s not.
Poppy says, “I’m going to take Maria to the bathroom.” She’s going to spank her. My mother used to threaten with a wooden spoon. Those hurt, you know. They’re pretty damn scary, and I learned to quiet in public places, fearing the wrath of my mother and the swat of a utensil.
“You did a good job,” I say. “I got in.” “What did it matter? You chose Penn, not Princeton.” She stands and pretends to admire herself in the mirror, but I can tell she’s trying to hide her real feelings. We fought a lot when I made the decision to go to college with Lo and not her. She never talked about being roommates with me, but Poppy later told me that Rose had already begun picking out dishware and furniture for an apartment off campus that she hoped we would share. At the time, I blamed my choice on Lo, telling everyone that he hadn’t been accepted to Princeton. Of course, he was, but
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I don’t care about any of that. The charade can go to hell for what it’s worth. I just don’t like seeing him move on without me.
“And she’s eating breakfast with you. You made her breakfast.” He usually makes me breakfast. Not random girls.
So stupid. Everything. That whole night. Right now. But to rectify what’s been done, what we’ve solidified, is beyond my power. Part of me will always believe that we’re past change. Maybe we’ve already accepted that this is how we’ll live and this is how we’ll come to die.
His voice lowers while I press my palms to my hot tears. “I don’t have any right to tell you to stop. That’s not what I’m trying to say, but for this arrangement to work, you have to know your limit. This, hooking up with guys in motels, not answering my calls, and…” he stumbles on the words again, “fucking…two guys. That has to end. What if they hurt you?” I close my eyes, the tears spilling out the creases. “I don’t remember them.”
Stop it, this is so heartbreaking
“Things were changing,” I mutter so softly that I think he’s missed the words. When he doesn’t ask what I said, I suspect he heard. “I know I can be a royal asshole. But I love you. You’re my best friend and the only person I’ve ever told that I have a problem. It doesn’t matter if we’re in a fucking fake relationship. We’re supposed to talk to each other. Come to me before you go off the deep end, okay?”
He actually smiles and rests a hand on my neck. He kisses my forehead before I can form thoughts, and when he pulls away, his lips brush my ear. “I’m here for you. Always.” I take a deep breath, his words enough to guide me into the clinic with my head upright and my shoulders back. I’m going to be okay. Whatever happens, at least Lo will stay by my side.
“LO! LO!” I scream, frantic. Ten seconds later, he runs into the room, eyes suddenly sober. “What’s wrong?” he says, panic-stricken. “Daisy is coming over.” His muscles slightly relax, and he combs shaking fingers through his hair. “Jesus, Lil. I thought you were hurt. Don’t call my name like that unless you’re bleeding.”
I guess the only way to be close to me is to inject yourself in my world because I won’t make the move to enter yours. That’s horrible, isn’t it?
One of Lo’s worst weeks, and I haphazardly tried cleaning up after him. Not well enough, apparently. Rose didn’t question my story, only complained that I hadn’t invited her to our Mexican themed blowout. I should laugh at the ludicrous lie—that we actually have friends to call—but I sadden at the thought of Lo drinking enough alcohol in one week to satiate an entire house party.
The suggestion takes me aback because it’s not what I expected or kind of wanted to hear. I would have liked him to say, sleep with me, I want to be with you, for real. Hell yes, I would have replied. Even if monogamy scares me more than anything, I would try it. For the whole purpose of having Loren Hale. I think I’ve always wanted it. With him. But I’m not so sure he feels the same.
“But Lo and I…” I try to find the words. “We may not be good for each other, but sometimes I feel like he’s the only guy who could ever love me.” And that’s the truth. Because who would love this? A girl who sleeps around. A whore. A slut. Trash to be disposed. That’s what everyone sees. “You think too lowly of yourself,” Rose says, standing. “If you don’t love yourself, Lily, how can anyone love you back?”
“Goddammit, Lily,” he curses. “I am standing here telling you that I want to have sex with you, and you still can’t accept it. Was it that terrible the first time, is that it?” “What? No…” The first time was wrong, impetuous and rushed. Back then, we were just kids trying to make each other feel better. If we have a second time together, I don’t want it to be like that. “You shouldn’t have sex with me just because I’m withdrawing. We’re friends,” I tell him. “You’re not going to be another name on my list of guys for the week. Okay?” His nose flares, breathing heavily. And he starts closing
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“Have you ever thought about us together?” I can hardly breathe. “Together?” “Where I don’t share you with any other man.” All the time. “Yes.” I keep expecting to wake up. “If I could be enough to fill you, would you let me?” I look at him. “Yes.” “Then let me try,” he says, his hand cupping my face. “Let me try to be enough for you.”
“How the hell could you not know?” “I’m dirty,” I refute, hot tears brimming. “You don’t want me.” His face twists in pain. “I don’t think that. Neither should you.” His lips graze my neck and then find my ear. “Lil, I want you to ask me. I need you to.” He presses his forehead to my temple, gently edging me closer to the mattress, his hands tight on my hips. I continue to struggle for breath. I know what he wants now. He wants this to be real. So do I. “Help me,” I say, breathlessly.
“I’m not one of your conquests,” he says in a throaty voice. “I know what you want, and you don’t need to take it. I can give it to you.”
“The worst part was hearing you.” He shakes his head. “You know, I’d stay awake, listening to you, wondering if your cries would turn terrified, wondering if some guy decided to take advantage or hurt you. But I can’t…” He pauses on the words. But I know. “You can’t tell me to stop.” Because it’s hypocritical. He won’t quit drinking, not for me, not for anything.
“I want to love you more than I love this”—he waves his bottle—“and I don’t know how else to do it unless there’s something to lose.”
“You want hot sauce on those chicken, right?” “No, not today.” I frown. “You always get hot sauce.” “And you hate spicy food.” WhaaatOhhhh. It clicks. He plans to kiss me sometime soon. That, I like.
“I love all of you.” He raises my chin with a finger and kisses me so delicately that I wonder who the man is on the other side of me.
The real Lo
“I guess I have nothing better to do,” Lo says. I hide my surprise, which quickly turns to pride. I want nothing more than Lo to succeed, and that actually means he has to try on his own terms. Baby steps.
And honestly…” His eyes dart between Lo and me with a growing smile. “Fizzle and Hale Co., you both still haven’t realized who I am. And I have a good feeling you wouldn’t give a shit if you knew.”
I glance down and see CONNOR COBALT in big letters. Uh… “Hey, Rose, I’ll have to call you back. We’ll talk more later. Someone’s on the other line.” “Lo? You’re seriously going to hang up on me for him right now.” “No, actually it’s—” She gasps. “No. You are not ditching me for Richard.” I laugh at his real first name. “I’ll talk to you later. He probably just wants to know how I did.” “Lily,” she warns. “Bye, Rose,” I say quickly, switching lines. “Hi, Connor.”
He refuses to remove his eyes from mine, almost challenging me to be the one to look away. I don’t. From my sexual interactions with Lo, I’ve come to enjoy this the most—the staring, the locked eyes, the feeling of being connected beyond intertwined limbs. I’ve never had that before. Not with anyone but him. “Breathe,” he tells me.
Lo sets his mischievous eyes on me. “What about you, love?” I thought the teasing would stop after we solidified our relationship. This kind of taunting, I like way too much, and he knows it. He snakes his hand on my knee, running it up my leg, too casually to be taken as something overtly sexual. For me, he may as well have dropped on his knees a second time. I mouth, stop. He mouths, why? And he breaks into a gorgeous smile. Lo looks to Connor, but he tightens his fingers on my thigh.
