Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(65)

Ryke watches Lo wheeze in an unconscious sleep. “I made it up,” he admits, sounding detached. “Is he okay?”

“Wait.” I hold up my hands. “What’s going on? Why did you help us?” He was standing on the sidelines watching the drama play out. He could have easily stayed there, not made a move, not intervened. Instead, he created an elaborate lie to get the Ninja Turtles inside and us to safety. Random acts of kindness do not exist in my world. The only answer that makes sense—he wants to be friends with us, choosing a billion dollar net worth over twenty-five million like Connor said.

For the first time, Ryke unfastens his gaze from Lo. “You think I could stand around and watch Matt drunkenly grab a girl?”

“Lots of people would,” I mumble. His brows scrunch into something hard and dark, making me more reserved and cautious.

“Yeah? Then people suck.” He glances back at Lo who hugs his flask. All of a sudden Ryke leans forward and snatches the flask from Lo’s fingers. He unscrews the cap and rolls down the window.

“What are you doing?” I say, frantic. I jump to the other seat and try to pry the flask back. “That’s not yours!” I struggle to reach for the alcohol, so he won’t dump out the liquid onto the dirtied roads.

Ryke effortlessly holds the flask away from me, but I angle my body against the open window, blocking him from any sort of exit. He stares at me like I’ve suddenly mutated into a lizard. “What’s your problem?”

“That’s not yours to trash!”

“Yeah? I take it that’s your boyfriend?”

I glare, not saying a word otherwise.

Connor watches curiously but only observes.

Ryke swishes the liquid. “This,” he says, “caused all the fucking drama today. So I’m doing him a favor, you a favor, and everyone else in this fucking limo a favor by tossing it out.” He goes for the window again, and I spider the door, my arms stretched out to stop him. He places a hand above mine—his body so close that I feel the rise and fall of his ribs against my chest. Oh God…

He tries to pass me by extending an arm towards the window, but I knock it away. Amber liquid splashes over the both of us. And I fight against him for the flask, but end up dousing us in more alcohol. To end the struggle, he pins my arms to the cushion. “Stop,” he forces.

I glare at his hold. “How is this any different than Matt grabbing me?”

His jaw hardens to stone. “I’m trying to help your boyfriend.” With this, he eases off and rests his back against the seat.

My bare stomach is slick with alcohol, and heat rises to my face at the remembrance of my actions. I pick up Lo’s empty flask and slide onto my seat, my eyes still narrowing in distrust at Ryke. “Who are you?”

Connor’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t know him?”

I glare. “Should I?”

“This is Ryke Meadows, captain of the track team. Michael and Matt are on it as well.”

I inhale a strained breath. “So,” I turn my heated gaze on Ryke, “those are your track buddies?”

“Yeah,” Ryke says. He glances at Lo again and leaves his place to sit on the other side of my boyfriend.

“He’s fine,” I nearly shout. I know how to take care of Lo. I’ve been in this situation plenty of times to understand when he needs a hospital and when he needs water and a bed.

Ryke doesn’t take my word for it. He puts two fingers to Lo’s neck, checking his pulse.

Connor nods to me. “You knew he was drinking their expensive booze the whole time, didn’t you?”

Ryke’s brows cinch, and with the paint across his eyes, his expression looks even darker and angrier than before. “You didn’t stop him?” He shakes his head in disapproval.

A surge of guilt assaults me, and I hate it. I hate him for making me feel this. I’ve done everything I can to protect Lo from himself without being hypocritical. “I tried.” I warned Lo not to, but I couldn’t force him to stop. Not when I wanted sex as much as he craved alcohol.

“And does he always drink this much?”

What’s with the interrogation? I bite my lip, not able to form the words that boil. “It’s his twenty-first birthday.” Most people end their twenty-first passed out drunk, but Ryke looks as suspicious as before. He sees through me just like the gigolo had.

“That’s bullshit,” Connor says. “Lo hasn’t attempted to hide his problem from me. I’ve never seen him without booze.”

I turn my head from their judgment and tighten my hand on Lo’s ankle. “I just need to get him home.” Wake up, I want to scream at Lo. He left me here to clean his mess. Again.

Connor drops the subject and the limo silently bumps along the badly paved city streets. I feel Ryke’s sweltering emotions, his breathing heavy as he tries to come to terms with the situation. Every time I catch a glimpse of him, he looks like he could punch a wall. Or more accurately, go for a run.

When the limo slows outside of the Drake, I crawl beside Lo and hook my arms underneath his, lifting his heavy body against mine.

“Lo,” I whisper. Wake up! I can barely carry him into a shower. How the hell am I supposed to drag him to the elevator? Asking for help happens to be a foreign phrase for me, so I spend the next couple of minutes struggling to upright his body and scoot him towards the door.