Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(88)

I’m not sure what to say or do right now.

“I’m just trying to help,” Ryke says. “Stop pushing me away.”

Lo grips the sink tightly.

I agree with Lo, staying sober takes more work than either of us thought possible, and obviously Lo and I are the type of people who only give ten percent of our energy. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve always been lazy, or if we’re just apathetic. But right now, in this moment, I care. I just hope Lo does too.

“It doesn’t even make the cravings stop,” Lo says, motioning towards the pill in Ryke’s hands.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees, “but you just felt what it’s like to drink when you’re on it, and I’m pretty sure that’s enough to motivate you to avoid booze.”

Lo hesitates. “Fuck,” he curses, rubbing his eyes.

“You should take it,” I tell him. “If I had a magic pill that made me puke whenever I looked at porn, it’d probably help.”

I don’t know if it’s me, or Ryke, or his own warring conscience, but something wins out. He turns around and accepts the pill from his brother.



***



The remixed rap song bleeds into the crowded area, swimsuit-clad college students pumping their fists in the air and chugging vodka straight from water bottles. I have the best seat on the beach.

Right on Lo’s shoulders.

The height gives me an advantage from the sweltering body heat and sweaty stench. I also have prime view of the stage, where the rapper in shiny shades saunters around and jumps in unison with the riled crowd.

Lo hasn’t left my side the entire concert. Not to buy a beer, go to a bar or to find his way to liquor. I haven’t made a move on him or asked for sex.

We’re having unadulterated fun.

The song ends and I stick my fingers in my mouth, letting out a loud whistle as everyone claps and cheers and hollers. Below me, the rest of our group tries to remain together and not be pushed too far away.

Rose wears a black sheer bathing suit cover-up and stands rigidly among the crowd, petrified by the closeness of so many bodies. Connor couldn’t be more composed. He’s like a chameleon, adapting to the drunken, party-like atmosphere with ease. He keeps her close, his hands on her hips, and normally she’d probably push him off. But I think the fear of ramming into someone and beer being spilt all over her cover-up and chest outweighs her fear of intimacy with Connor.

Melissa has all but forgiven Ryke. The make-out session helped in the cab, but the below the panties groping solidified her plans to stay in Cancun. I would have been more jealous last night if Lo wasn’t sick. But his clammy skin and pale hue literally rerouted my whole mind. Even as I heard Melissa’s giggles from the deck, pitch black outside—I didn’t care all that much. I just wanted Lo to feel better.

Melissa is in a good mood now. She sits on Ryke’s shoulders, clapping beside me as the next song starts.

A gust of smoke plumes up by my nose, and I sniff the salty air. Joints are lit all over this beach, the smells overpowering, but this one is so near that I look down. Daisy stands directly in front of Ryke and Lo, a cigarette pinched between two fingers. At least it’s not pot. So there’s that.

She effortlessly keeps the cigarette from burning anyone in close proximity, and she lifts her head to blow the smoke into the air away from other people. Except me, of course.

I’ve let Daisy smoke on numerous occasions. I didn’t know my place to tell other people to stop when I can barely stop myself. I hate the thought of being a hypocrite. But I’m under the impression that Daisy only smokes recreationally. I imagine that recreation turning into a habit, which turns into an addiction. I just can’t bear for Daisy to go through what I am.

Before I can say anything, Ryke plucks the cigarette right from her fingers and tosses it into the sand.

I don’t see her reaction because the rapper has stopped singing and starts talking, the music still going on behind him. “Now I want to see more ladies in the air! On shoulders now! Let’s go!” Girls start climbing on random guys’ shoulders, being lifted into the air like Melissa and me.

Connor doesn’t even ask Rose, probably knowing she would prefer to keep her feet planted firmly on the ground. Daisy taps a bandana-wearing guy in front of her. He gives her a long once-over from head to breasts—mainly staying on her breasts that fit in a neon green bikini, the fringe accentuating her boobs from a small B to a C.

“I’m light,” she tells him. And then she whispers in his ear.

Melissa is watching Ryke with the utmost scrutiny, but he doesn’t say a word.

The guy breaks into a big dopey grin, which is not good. I am thinking sexual things—like Daisy whispered to him that she will return the favor of sitting on his shoulders. Sexual favors, of course. But maybe that’s just my dirty mind playing tricks on me again.

I put my hands on Lo’s head and glance down at him. He is glaring at the guy. So…Maybe everyone is just as dirty as me. I grin at the idea.

The bandana guy bends down to let her on his shoulders.

When she’s at my height, she turns a little and gives me a high-five, oblivious to the overprotective guys below me.

“Ladies! Say yeah!” The rapper chants.

“YEAH!” This is kind of fun. My smile takes over my face.