Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(71)

“I thought you said you needed help learning what Comic-Con entails, not a quote.” Ha! I caught him in his lie.

Ryke doesn’t even flinch. “That too.” He rubs his lips in thought. “Look, maybe I can at least borrow some of his comics and he can give me some highlights of characters and conflicts.”

I stare at him, still skeptical. “You said this wasn’t about Lo’s problem, right?”

“You mean his alcohol addiction.”

I glower. He’s pushing it. I go to stand up and leave. Screw the bio book—he can have it. Ryke quickly extends his hands to stop me.

“I’m sorry. I can be insensitive sometimes.”

I stay in my seat, waiting.

“This isn’t about alcohol.”

“Do you have a crush on him or something?”

Ryke jerks back in surprise and cringes. “What? Why the hell would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” I feign confusion. “You keep asking about his comics. His advice about Comic-Con. You do realize, I have comics too and I went to Comic-Con with him.”

He groans. “Why do you have to make this so difficult? I’m asking for help. From you, from Lo, from whomever knows the difference between whatever costume you were wearing and Wolverine.”

“There are a lot of other people that can help you.” I will continue to distrust Ryke. Literally, his responses grate on every nerve in my body. It’s impossible to be attracted to someone that shrivels my insides.

“I don’t want their help. I want yours.”

Before I make sense of that, my phone buzzes on the table. Ryke glances at the name in the text box. “Lo,” he says. “Maybe you can ask him if it’s okay.”

“He will say no,” I shoot back.

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know Lo,” I retort and click into the text.

Can I watch porn with you tonight? You clock more time with your remote than me. Jealous. – Lo

I clutch my phone to my chest, hoping Ryke didn’t catch a peek. My elbows blush anyway.

“You’re turning red.”

“It’s hot in here,” I mumble and clear my throat. “I don’t know what more to tell you.”

“Say ‘yes, Ryke, I’ll help you this one time since I stopped Matt from beating the shit out of my boyfriend.’”

My eyes narrow. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

“Forever.”

I sigh heavily, realizing this is not going to end like I want it to. “Lo may yell at you. He may call you rude names until you leave.”

Ryke lets out another short laugh. “Yeah, I think I can handle him.” He tilts his head. “Do you think he can handle me?”

“You do realize that sounds sexual,” I blurt, my eyes widening in regret. Why did I just say that?!

“And maybe you have a perverted mind.”

I can’t argue with that, but I have officially roasted into a new shade of red. To ignore my embarrassment, I go back to the issue at hand. “You’re not allowed to mention alcohol. If you do, you’re gone.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

Maybe Lo will find a way to deter Ryke. If anyone can skillfully kick someone out of our apartment, it’s him.

I scroll through the calendar in my phone. “What day were you thinking?”

He stands and stuffs my biology book into his backpack. “Right now.”

I gape. “I’m studying, Ryke.”

“Really. That’s what you were doing?” He rubs his jaw. “I could have sworn you were people-watching and eating the end of your pencil.”

I glare. “You’ve been spying on me?”

He slings his backpack over his shoulder. “I was observing you. Don’t get so pissy about it. I just needed to make sure you were in a good enough mood to hear my request.” He nods to the exit. “Shall we?”

I stand up in a huff, gathering my notebooks and shoving them into my backpack. “I don’t understand why we have to do this right now.”

He scoots his chair into the table. “Because, Lily Calloway, you seem like the type of girl who will never return my calls.” He motions for me to follow with his fingers, as though I’m a pet dog. “Let’s go.”

I inhale a strained breath, silently throwing darts into Ryke Meadows’ face. His self-confident swagger rubs me wrong. In fact, I’d rather not be rubbed by him at all. At least Lo will know what to do with him. That, I hold onto.





*


We agree to meet in the lobby of the Drake since we drove in two separate cars. When I walk in, I’m not surprised to see him waiting by the golden elevators. My bio book rests under his arm, and for the first time I allow myself a good look at Ryke. Without his Green Arrow costume, he appears slightly older, especially with a stubbly jaw and tanned skin. Underneath his white track shirt, I’m sure lies very toned and very lean muscles. He has a face that could force girls to their knees, but so does Lo.

I can’t imagine the two of them squaring off. Ice v. Stone. Sharpness v. Hardness. Cold v. Hot. They’re different, yet somehow, they’re still alike.

Ryke presses the button when he sees me approach. “You look like you’re going to vomit.”