Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(72)

“I’m not,” I mumble a stupid reply, thankful that the elevator doors burst open and slice the awkwardness. I slide in and hit the top floor. When they close, Ryke spins around and faces me, positioning himself in front of the doors, as though hoping I won’t bolt the second they break apart.

“I lied,” he starts.

My jaw unhinges. “Wha…” This was a bad idea.

“I’m not actually going to Comic-Con—”

“I knew it!” I should have listened to my gut. “Get out.”

He tilts his head with a frown at my asinine order. “We’re on a fucking elevator. In fact…” He presses the emergency stop, and it rumbles to a halt. Oh my God. He’s going to murder me! I spring to the buttons to restart the elevator, but he shields my passage by extending his arms and then lightly pushing me back.

“Let me out!”

“I need you to listen to me,” Ryke starts. “I am a journalism major. I do write for The Philadelphia Chronicle. But I have no intention of going to Comic-Con.”

“Then why—”

“Because I want to help your boyfriend, and I needed you to get me at least this far so I could explain the rest.”

My defensive barriers start rising tenfold. “We don’t need your help! I can take care of him.” I point to my chest. “I’ve taken care of him my whole life.”

“Yeah?” Ryke’s eyes narrow heatedly. “How many times have you watched him pass out? Tossing a few aspirins isn’t helping him, Lily. He has a fucking problem.”

My cheeks burn, and I take in his words very carefully. It hurts to see Lo drink so excessively. It hurts to watch him depend on one drink after the next, and I constantly fear the day where it becomes too much. But I always bury those worries with carnal pleasures and a natural high. My voice softens. “Why do you want to fix him so badly?”

Ryke stares at me with more empathy than I thought he was capable of. “My father is an alcoholic, and I don’t want Lo to turn out like him. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

I ask a question that has been plaguing me for some time. “How can you know Lo’s an alcoholic? You don’t know him. You’ve seen him once on his twenty-first birthday, and he was passed out more than he was awake.”

Ryke shrugs. “I can just tell, especially with the way you became possessive over his flask. He’d be truly pissed if someone wasted his expensive alcohol, wouldn’t he?”

He would. I bite my nails. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Ryke edges forward. “Let me try to help him.”

I shake my head. “Lo won’t let you.”

“I figured as much, and that’s why I can start by hanging around you guys, getting to know him.”

The pieces start adding together. “Comic-Con. You want to keep up the lie to grow closer to Lo so you can try to influence him. You want me to lie?” I’m not sure this will work. We’ve already allowed Connor into our lives; another person may unsettle an already off-kilter balance.

“Yeah,” Ryke says. “I want you to lie to your boyfriend so that he has a chance to get better. You think you can do that, Lily? Or are you going to be selfish and let him continue this destructive path? One day, he may never wake up. One day, his body may shut down. And you’re going to think back to this moment and wonder why you didn’t agree to this proposition—why you didn’t try something else to help your boyfriend.”

I stumble back, punched in the gut. “I don’t want him to die,” I murmur.

“Then do something about it.”

I nod out of impulse, but I haven’t processed what this means in the long run. That I’ll have to lie to Lo. Can I do it? My brows scrunch in thought. I think I can. Lo has more to lose if I don’t try. Surviving another debacle like Halloween sounds less and less likely, and I struggle to help Lo because of our relationship and my vice. No second party has ever offered aid before. And if Lo was given the same deal to help me, would he take it?

I know he would.

I look back up at Ryke. “I still don’t like you.”

“I’m not very fond of you either,” he admits and hands me my bio book.

“What did I do to you?” I frown. Why doesn’t he like me?

He presses a button and the elevator groans to a start. We rise. “You’re too skinny. You whine too much. And you enable an alcoholic.”

I purse my lips. “I’m already regretting this.” But I’ll suffer through Ryke’s mean comments if it gives Lo a chance to get better.

“I warned you that I’m not easy to get rid of.”

I thought he was exaggerating. The elevator doors slide open, and I lead him to my apartment even though he knows the way. The thought is as unsettling as the looming situation. The last time he was here, Lo had been unconscious to the world. Moments ago, I hoped Lo would find a way to kick him out, now I have to defend Ryke, who has proved to be an annoying force in my life.

I unlock the door and toss my jangling keys in the basket.

Lo calls to me from the bedroom. “Lil, we’re going to watch Blow Hard, and I’m going to fuck you better than…” He trails off to read the label on the back of the DVD while my eyes bug, not willing a peek at Ryke by my side. “...a group of pierced thugs. Huh…”