Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(82)

“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.





{21}


“Can you zip me?”

Lo fixes his tie and then rests a hand on my hip. I try not to focus on the way his fingers press into my side. We just had sex and took showers. I do not want to show up to Rose’s fashion show with ratted hair and flushed cheeks.

He zips my dress to the collar, and the touch ripples my skin. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I smooth my hair that reaches my shoulders, trying to satiate the nervous jitters in my stomach. I struggle to think of an instance before middle school where I willfully introduced any friends to my family. In part, it was probably because Lo has been my only companion for some time.

A buried, vile part of me almost wishes Rose and Connor never met. Or that I wasn’t his friend first. Anything so that my two worlds don’t have to collide—my family and my college life. Connor knows things. More than even Rose, and I fear we made a mistake in not scripting lies for our new friend. But how was I supposed to know that Rose of all people would find Connor Cobalt’s personality attractive? My luck is like a perfect storm.

At least I wasn’t selfish enough to destroy their relationship before it started. That would have been mean.

With Ryke following us to events, it doubles the stress. At any moment Connor or Ryke could let something slip to my family, and everything could be ruined. More than that, I feel overwhelmed by letting my family see another part of my life. I compartmentalize for a reason, and now everything seems utterly messy and complicated. If Lo feels the same, he doesn’t let on. I watch him casually check the cards in his wallet before sliding it into his pocket.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Are you decent?” Connor’s voice muffles from the other side.

Lo opens the door, and Connor stands there, wearing his own thousand-dollar suit and an equally expensive smile. “We need to leave. I don’t want to be late.”

“We’ll be an hour early,” Lo complains. “We can wait around a few minutes.”

I follow them into the kitchen where Ryke sits at the bar, typing on his cellphone

“I want to see Rose before the show starts,” Connor confesses. “She sounded nervous this morning.”

“She is,” I say. “She’s mostly worried about no one showing up.” I even called her. Mostly to talk about Connor, but she wouldn’t really give me any details on their theatre date other than he acted exactly how she thought he would. Whatever that means. They’re still going out, so I can only presume that it went well. Hopefully they didn’t talk too much about Lo and me. I need to find time to tell Connor that Rose is unaware of certain aspects of our lives. Like Lo’s constant drinking.

“I told her that I have it handled, but she chooses not to believe me,” Connor says. Small wrinkles crease his eyes in discontent, an emotion I’ve yet to see from the unflappable Connor Cobalt.

“Who’d you call?” Lo wonders before eyeing Ryke at the bar. Even with days where Ryke asks Lo questions, he keeps him at a distance, answering back with sarcasm or disdain. And now that I am no longer a driving force in actively diverting Lo’s attention from alcohol, Ryke wastes no opportunity to glare at me. I can do nothing right.

“The owner of Macey’s, Nordstrom, H&M and some lesser known department stores will be there. It’ll be a full house.” Connor glances at me. “Don’t tell her about who’s going to be at the show. There’s no point in making her more anxious.”

“I won’t.”

Ryke stands from the bar, slipping his phone into his suit pocket, his wardrobe just as expensive as Connor and Lo’s. For some reason, his tailored suit catches me off guard. I expected him to be on an athletic scholarship, but by the fit and fine fabric, the suit clearly is name brand. Possibly Armani or Gucci. Which means he has money. Lots of it.

I realize I haven’t asked Ryke much about his personal life. Lo meant to, but he gets so irritated that he usually walks off.

Before Ryke can shoot me a scathing look, I find a good question. “What do your parents do?”

Connor puts his hand on my shoulder. “Talk and walk. We’re running late.” We’re really not, but Connor Cobalt’s definition of late is much different than mine. We leave the apartment with Connor in the rear, practically pushing us out.

Ryke sidles next to me, but Lo remains closer on my other side. “My mom doesn’t work. I come from some family money.”