Addicted for Now (Addicted #3)

by Krista Ritchie

But things have changed, I realize. Rose has a boyfriend. I have a brother. Two more guys have been added to our dynamic, and I could easily be grouped off with them.

Rose sits on the bathtub ledge with a flatiron in one hand and a tube of lip gloss in the other. “Did Saks Fifth Avenue vomit in our bathroom?” I ask. They all laugh, and Rose is even too happy to retort with her usual ice. She looks like someone saved her from a deserted island.

A million other thoughts cross my mind. Most of them circulate around one thing: Me, warning Daisy to stay far away from every guy on the fucking planet. And I have a flash of having to beat the shit out of someone on this trip—just to protect a girl who easily looks as old as her two sisters. She can fit in with our group of college-aged kids. And she shouldn’t. She’s sixteen, despite being a high fashion model.

She drops the strands, and they splay past her breasts. Fuck. I hate that I’m even looking there.

“So what are you doing here, Dais?” I ask, my eyes staying on Lily. It helps keep my mind off dragging Daisy to the nearest airport.

Daisy easily agreed. She seems to want to please other people, and I wonder just how much of her life has been dedicated to appeasing her mother.

I raise my eyes at him. “You’ve never read Cosmo before?” “I never needed to know the top fifty ways to pleasure a man.” I splash him, and he lets out a laugh, and I actually smile. I swim to the ledge, knowing full well that if I had whiskey today, nothing would have stopped me from uttering a biting response. And for once, I truly feel like I achieved something.

“How was I supposed to know he was so comfortable in a banana hammock?” Lo says loud enough for Ryke to hear when he approaches. “We’ve only been brothers for four months.” “We’ve been brothers for twenty-one years,” Ryke refutes. He sits on the pool ledge beside our chair, sticking his feet into the water. “You only knew about me four months ago.” “And that’s supposed to make me like you more?”

She tries hard not to smile and just shakes her head. Oh, she’s learned how to play his games since the last time. I should break this up, I think. But I’m hypnotized by their easy banter.

And then Daisy’s sly smile falters. “I don’t know what I want,” she realizes. “Well that’s a problem.” Lo gives me a stare like that’s what you’re freaking out over? Really? It’s all in my head, isn’t it?

“I think,” Ryke says slowly, trying to process the words, “you need to realize that this taco isn’t going to add an inch on your waistline. If you have as great willpower as you say, then eating this won’t cause you to binge tomorrow.”

“Like I said—” “You like many things, that doesn’t mean you should eat them,” he finishes. “I heard you.” “You listen,” she says mockingly. “What kind of guy are you?” “The rare kind.”

She sets a hand on his leg and the other on his wrist as he holds out the taco. She leans forward to take a bite, and I swear, her eyes connect with his the entire time. There’s something incredibly dirty about this—I see it, does anyone else? Lo says nothing. When she takes a bite, her eyes flutter closed and she lets out an audible moan. “Oh my God,” she mumbles, chewing. Ryke wears a satisfied grin, like he won the best prize, seeing her happy (or making an orgasmic noise, I have no idea). Sauce leaks onto her chin, but her head is tilted back, too absorbed in food bliss to notice. He uses his thumb to wipe the sauce right below her lip. “Good, right?” She swallows. “The best.”

(At least it wasn’t a hot dog.)

“Well life is different here. We’re in America.” “We’re in Mexico, actually.”

She scrutinizes Ryke and Daisy, the way Ryke is basically hugging her in the water, but it’s really accidental. Or so I keep telling myself.

I just…don’t think this is real. So I reach out and pinch his arm. He flinches. “What the hell?” And he retracts his hands. No, come back! “I-I was making sure this wasn’t a dream,” I explain. “I’m sorry!” I lean down and plant two soft kisses on the reddened skin. His chest rises and falls with full-bellied laughs. “You’re supposed to pinch yourself, dummy,” he tells me.

A date in a foreign country with my boyfriend. A date in foreign country with my sober boyfriend. It sounds amazing.

The water beads our skin and caresses us in its warmth, provoking me to take him every which way. But I won’t. My sex life is in his hands. I won’t jump him. I won’t hike a leg around his waist. I’m restraining myself. Willingly.

After a long moment, I realize that I’m okay. That I’m more excited about spending the day with him than I am about having sex. I don’t know if I’ll feel this way tomorrow. But today…it feels nice.

We snorkeled with the turtles and climbed to the top of a Mayan ruin. She never asked me for sex, and I never craved a drop of whiskey.

Ryke studies me. “You still taking Antabuse?” I give him a bitter smile. “One pill a day keeps the demons at bay.” “You didn’t answer me.” “Yes, Dad.”

Talking makes me think and thinking makes me want to fucking drink.

All I hear is my half-brother offering to feel up my girlfriend’s little sister. I don’t even fucking care if it was a joke or sarcasm or fucking anything. I think I’m going to kill him later.

“I’m sorry,” I end up muttering while we wait for the elevator. “No, don’t be,” Daisy says. “You were right. What I did—it was wrong. Sometimes I just forget about money. I’m going to try to be better about it.” “Yeah, but I do it at times too. And I’m not your dad. I shouldn’t be lecturing you.” Or anyone. She smiles. “It’s nice to know you care.”

I do care. Is that because I’m sober or is it just because things have changed? I wish I knew.

Then Rose had to try on practically every pair of heel in her size, and we both forgot about Lily…until we heard her.” What? She wouldn’t masturbate in public. That’s beyond what she’s ever done. My chest starts to hurt again. “Heard her? Was she masturbating?” “No,” Connor says quickly. “No. Not at all.” Good. “But we heard her orgasm.”

“Just don’t have sex with her. Easy enough, right?” “Yeah, it’d probably be difficult on that chair,” I say, trying to smile, trying to lessen how much I empathize with her hurt. “Not for you two.”

I don’t want it. So I say, “I don’t want sex.” Tears gather in my eyes. “I just want you to hold me.”

“She said that I need to start coming up with ways to stop myself from fantasizing. Like focusing on homework or American presidents.” “Basically what every teenage boy does to avoid a hard-on.”

“Right.” He takes another trained breath. “Your fantasies—who was in them?” “Me,” I say. “And you.” “You answered so quickly,” he says in worry. “That doesn’t mean I lied. I haven’t fantasized about anyone but you since you left for rehab. You’re like…the best I’ve ever had.”

His eyes glimmer with possibilities. “Is this your new superpower, Lily Calloway?” he asks me sweetly. “I can touch you now without feeling guilty?” “It may not last forever.” “Then I’ll enjoy it for now.” For now. I like that too.

“My twenty-two-year-old brother is flirting, apparently not deliberately—I’m not even sure how that fucking happens—with your sixteen-year-old sister.”

“Well, it’s just…” I stumble. “Daisy is a high fashion model. She’s always around older people, and she doesn’t look sixteen. She has a career. She makes money and travels the world. Sometimes she acts her age, sure, but most of the time she’s basically twenty.”

One thing is certain. Surprise kisses are the best.

She seems to bat lashes, give us those big green puppy-dog eyes and everyone falls under her spell. The frightening part, I think she knows she has this power too.

My lingo is clearly meant for sex addicts, not adrenaline junkies.

Samantha’s ways have always eluded me. She digs her nails into Poppy’s daughter, Rose’s fashion line and Daisy’s modeling career but leaves Lily alone. It’s strange and something I couldn’t quite comprehend before rehab. Being around them, I’m starting to understand it even more.

“I guess the rules are simple. You know, no getting fat. No ruining your hair. No getting too tan. And no tattoos.” Her lips twitch. “So good news is—I’m free to contract an STD.” “Jesus Christ,”

it’s like watching a little perceptive mastermind at work. Daisy’s good, and I wonder who else has caught onto her tricks. Which is why I look to Connor.

Regardless, I think being inside Connor Cobalt’s head would be both terrifying and strange, and yet the most expensive amusement ride there is.

I just barely catch Daisy’s words. “I think kissing is overrated.” Oh no. Ryke tenses beside me, and I hope he’s hearing my fucking voice raging in his head right now. “How so?” Melissa takes the bait.

“And then,” she continues without missing a beat, “he goes in for the kiss. You pull back, refuse him an intimate piece of you. Tension builds, and every other touch, flesh against flesh, feels illicit and intoxicating.” “So you’re a tease,” Ryke says. I’m about to curse him out, but Daisy cuts me off. “No, we end up having sex.” Ryke doesn’t even flinch. “If I’m not fucking mistaken,” he says, “you mentioned sex being overrated as well.” When?! Rehab. I fucking hate rehab. I missed everything. “That was until I took your advice.”

“Seriously,” I say between clenched teeth, “if you don’t fucking tell me what he said, I’m going to flip the table.” Ryke winces and gestures to Daisy. “Just say it.” He gave her permission, but she’s still wary. Slowly and cautiously, she says, “You shouldn’t let any guy fuck you until he makes you come at least twice.”

Melissa breaks the quiet. “What great instruction for a sixteen-year-old.” She crosses her arms over her chest. Ryke lets out a breath. “What can I say? I give good advice.” Melissa slaps him across the face, the sound like a gunshot, and most of the restaurant quiets.

“You can’t be that angry at me. Not over this,” he says coldly. “She’s not your little sister. You couldn’t even tell me ten facts about Daisy if you tried.” “Fuck you,” I shoot back. “She’s Lily’s little sister. I remember her in diapers, so don’t try to defend yourself based on a goddamn family tree.”

“Don’t make me into the villain because you’re upset you lost out on a human fucking relationship with her,” Ryke almost screams, pointing towards the door. “Blame booze, blame our father, but don’t you ever fucking blame me.”

“It was Daisy’s sweet sixteen and we were on the boat. Her friends were discussing sex, and I was not a part of that conversation, believe me. They roped Lily into it, and she looked ready to fling herself off the yacht. I mean, she’s a fucking walking oxymoron: a sex addict who’s uncomfortable talking about sex.” “She’s working on it.” “That’s what I thought too, but she ran away from the girls. And when Daisy confronted her to talk about sex, she was flustered again. I was just trying to show her that it’s okay. That people can be comfortable about it. I knew I was going to cross a line, but I thought it was going to be fucking worth it. For Lily…and a little bit for Daisy too.” He pauses. “It just happened, Lo. I can’t take it back, and I honestly wouldn’t.”

“We weren’t going to let Melissa go home by herself. We’re in Mexico.” I can’t help what I say. I’m so pissed at everything and everyone. “That’s funny, last time you were in Mexico, you had no problem leaving Lily and your friends to go jump off a fucking cliff.”

“She wants to know you care.” “I do care!” he shouts, frustrated. “You don’t act like it,” Daisy says. “Girls want to be the sole focus of your attention. They want to be all you think about, all you look at and see. You’re more fixated on chicken tacos than Melissa.” She pauses. “But if you’re sick of her, you know, you don’t have to do anything. She’ll just leave…”