Chapter 26 #3
“She’s a fashion designer,” Connor tells us. “She’s going to judge me on what I wear.” With this, he waves us goodbye and heads out the door.
I hear the clink of bottles, not sure the steps to take. Ryke whispers to me, “So you’ve been distracting him with sex?”
I blush. “Is that bad?”
“No,” he admits, “but it’s not entirely working considering he’s making”—he leans farther back on the chair legs to peek at the kitchen—“whiskey straight.” I kind of hope Ryke falls.
And just like that, the wooden legs slip beneath Ryke and his back slams on the rug.
I laugh so hard my chest hurts.
“It’s not fucking funny,” he tells me, picking himself up and stretching out his arms.
“Yes it is.”
Lo comes back with a full glass of whiskey. “What is?” He sits on the other side of the couch, an entire cushion separating us .
“He fell off the chair,” I say.
Ryke switches to the recliner, a much safer choice. And then he nods to Lo. “What’s with the whiskey?”
I can tell Lo wants to glare at me for putting him in this position, but he resists. “I don’t see how that question relates to your article.” He sips the dark amber liquid.
“Background,” Ryke says evasively. “You didn’t answer me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” He takes another huge swig, not even grimacing as the sharp alcohol slides down his throat.
Ryke rubs his lips. “What’s your father like?”
“Are we really starting this now?” Lo snaps.
“No time like the present.”
He downs the rest of his drink way too quickly and stands. “Do you want a beer or something?”
“I’ll take a beer,” I say as Lo disappears into the kitchen.
Ryke shakes his head at me like that’s a bad move.
“Cancel my order,” I call to Lo.
“Ryke?” Lo asks. “Last chance.”
“I’m fine.”
I whisper very softly to Ryke, “You’re annoying him so much that he’s drinking more. ”
“I see that. Let me handle it.”
I try to trust him, but he’s doing a poor job at breaking through Lo’s tough exterior. When Lo returns to the living room, we both glance at the newly filled glass in his hand, the liquid nearly black.
Lo takes his seat. Far away from me. I dislike it immensely.
He watches Ryke as he sips the liquor. He licks his lips and says, “You seem awfully interested in my whiskey. Are you sure you don’t want a glass?”
“No, I don’t drink.”
The muscles in Lo’s jaw twitch. “You don’t drink? Not even beer? ”
“No. I had a rough patch in high school. I drank and drove, which ended in a totaled car, a broken mailbox, and angry neighbors. I haven’t tasted alcohol since.”
“Driving was your first mistake,” Lo tells him.
“I disagree.” Ryke nods to the liquor in Lo’s hand. “That was.”
“Well I’m not you, am I?” Lo says with bite.
“If you’re expecting some sort of story where I turn into you, then you’re going to be disappointed.
What you believe about me is probably right.
I’m a rich asshole who has everything. And I like it.
” I hear his father in his voice, and it scares me. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Ryke’s face hardens to stone. And his eyes narrow in empathy, which I’m sure Lo does not appreciate. “Let’s start with an easier question then. How’d you two meet?”
“Childhood friends,” Lo tells him. “You want to know if I took her virginity too? I didn’t. Some prick beat me to it.”
“Lo!” I grab a pillow, about to hide behind it.
Ryke keeps his challenging gaze on Lo. “That’s interesting.” He finds the loss of my virginity interesting—that’s just great. “Did you lose your virginity to her?”
Lo drinks at this.
Ryke rolls his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. Is she the only girl you’ve ever been with?”
I interject, “I don’t see what this has to do with anything. ”
“No,” Lo ignores me. “I’ve slept with other girls.”
“I wasn’t talking about sex.”
Lo holds Ryke’s stare. “Long term, yeah. Same for her.”
I wonder if Ryke is adding up all the years that I’ve enabled Lo, helping facilitate his addiction. When his eyes flicker to me with a sliver of contempt, I know he probably is. I can change things now. It may hurt our relationship, but I’ve found a way.
I crawl over to Lo and press my shoulder against his. He finishes his drink, and before he stands, I wrap an arm around his waist, keeping him here .
His cold eyes cut me, and he whispers lowly, “I’m not in the mood.” He disentangles my hands from him and steps over my feet to go to the kitchen. I sit back like he socked me in the gut.
“You okay?” Ryke whispers.
Tears build. “I don’t know what to do,” I mutter.
“If I come over there, will he strangle me?”
My eyes burn. “I’m not even sure anymore.”
Ryke tests the waters and plants his butt on the cushion next to me. “You’re doing a decent job, Lily. I just don’t understand why you haven’t tried sooner.” Because we have a system that cannot be disrupted.
“He’s not hurting anyone,” I try to defend in a small whisper. “He’s never hurt anyone, Ryke.”
“Seems to me he’s hurting you.”
I shake my head. “ Me? No, I’m fine.”
“Then why are you crying, Lily?”
I wipe the traitorous tears, and Lo enters without a drink but carries Ryke’s bundle of dry clothes. He throws them on his lap.
“It’s time for you to leave.” Lo won’t even look at me.
Ryke stands tensely, holding the clothes. He edges towards Lo and whispers to him, “Your girlfriend is upset, Lo. Can’t you see that?” He’s trying to guilt him into sobriety. I doubt that’ll work.
“Don’t act like you know her.”
“I know her enough.”
“You don’t know shit . You’d be fucking spinning if you did.” He motions to the shirt that Ryke wears. “Keep my clothes. I don’t need them.”
“Fine. I’ll see you soon.” With this, he makes his exit, the door slamming shut.
Lo wipes his mouth and says, “I’ll be in my room.”
My chest caves. We should talk, but what do I say?
Lo, I wish you would stop drinking. And he’d say, Lily, I wish you’d stop having so much sex.
And then we’d look at each other and wait for the other to say okay, I’ll change for you.
But there’d be silence so deep and cutting that I’d feel ripped open and bare. There’s no coming back from that.
I respond in the only way that makes sense to me. “I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I’m really, really sorry, Lo.”
His muscles tense and he runs a hand through his hair. “I want to be alone right now. We can have sex in the morning, okay?” He leaves me. And I sink into the couch and listen to the ticking of an old, expensive clock on the bookshelf.
I curl up in a blanket, so hollow inside.
Minutes pass before I actually start crying, the messy tears that scrunch up your face and cause snot to run.
At least no one can see me, but I know I’m not alone in my misery.
Morning sex is hard and rough and so emotional that my head starts whirling. I’m so dizzy by the end of it that I rush to the bathroom and vomit in the toilet.
“Lily,” Lo calls, pulling up his boxer-briefs as he hurriedly enters the bathroom. He kneels behind me and rubs my back. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself.
I dry heave for a full minute before I calm down, my trembling hands gripping the toilet bowl.
“What happened?”
I keep my back to him. “I was dizzy.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t know,” I murmur, my voice raw and scratchy. I stand to brush my teeth. I shakily find my toothbrush and some paste.
“Lily, talk to me,” he says from behind me. He sets a gentle hand on my hip while I spit into the sink.
When I finish, I turn around and lean my backside against the counter. “Do you want to break up?” I say bluntly .
His breathing shallows. “No. I love you, Lil.” He holds my hand.
“Look, I’ll try harder. We both will.” I’m not surprised by the sudden proclamation.
We fight one minute and then try to make up the next.
It’s why we’ve lasted so long. And I suppose, the fear of losing each other is always stronger than the pain we cause.
“Try harder to do what?” I want clarification of where we stand.
“I’ll drink more beer. Ryke was pissing me off yesterday, so I chose hard liquor.” He pauses and eyes me hesitantly, about to turn the tables. “Lily…I love having sex with you, but the past two weeks, you’ve been crazy. I can barely even think.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” But I’ve been like that to stop him from drinking. I guess we need to work on fulfilling our compromises, which means I need to stop trying to force him to be sober by diverting his attention elsewhere.
Ryke will be disappointed, but this is the best I have without shoving Lo away. I need him more than he needs me. His vice is a bottle of whiskey. Mine is his body. So when we fight, I’m the one who loses out in the end.
“Do you want to break up?” he offers me the same out.
It’d be easier to let him go, to return to our regular rituals, but now that I’ve had him, I can’t imagine not being swept in his arms and being fulfilled to the highest degree.
He’s my drug that I gladly consume, and I think that’s what he fears most. He enables my addiction.
Always has. And the longer we’re together, he always will.
“No,” I whisper. “No, I want to be with you.”
He draws me close and kisses me on the forehead. “We’ll do better.” His lips brush my ear. “Next time you feel sick, please tell me.”
“I will.”
He tilts my chin up and kisses me on the lips, urging my mouth open. His tongue slips in for a second and then he breathes, “Let’s do it right this time.” He scoops me up in his arms, and I hold him around the neck, gladly about to erase all the bad moments and replace them with good.