Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(89)

When I was sixteen, I remember shoveling scrambled eggs into my mouth while Lo tried to unlock his father’s liquor cabinet. Jonathan overslept after a night of his own debauchery. A woman in a slim black dress carried her red pumps and shuffled through the kitchen. She refused to look at us, instead keeping her sight on the door like it was a finish line in a 5K race. And I had a sudden urge to bolt up from my chair and pull her aside. To ask her if she liked the thrill of one-night stands as much as me. To talk and gossip about being two girls completely in control of their bodies. At the time, I felt closeted, like a slut with a secret. But I stayed in my seat, letting her leave and fantasizing about what she might have told me.

I don’t know if Lo realizes that I learned about one-night stands from his father’s numerous flings. I hope not. And I’d never tell him.

I return my focus back on Ryke who watches me too closely, as though reading my expression for his answers.

Lo enters the kitchen with a clenched jaw and a pocketed phone. Oh no.

“Everything okay?” Ryke asks.

“Fine,” Lo says unconvincingly. He grabs his jacket off the chair and a bottle of bourbon from the counter. “Let’s go.”

Ryke and I exchange worry, and we both follow Lo in close pursuit.





*


The necklace I gave Lo thumps against his chest as he dances with me. I touch the arrowhead and he clasps his hands in mine. He plants a light kiss on my cheek before distancing himself. I reach out, but he’s already gone, delegating himself king of the bar stool.

He orders a slew of drinks while sweat gathers at the base of my neck, and I solo-dance on the floor, shedding off insecurities with the hypnotic music. I keep glancing back at the bar. Each time, Lo holds a new drink. I’ve evaded the phone call topic because Connor and Ryke always hang around him, and I’d rather not broach the subject in front of them.

After three shots of tequila for Connor and Ryke, they head to the bathroom, and I grab my chance to speak to Lo alone.

“Hey.” I nudge his shoulder and slide into the nearby stool. Distracted, he stares at his glass of amber liquid—his mind far away from here. “What did your father want?”

Lo shakes his head and cups the glass tighter. “Nothing.”

I frown and try to push away the hurt from his unwillingness to share. The rejection stings, but it may just be the wrong time. He catches my despondence and looks back towards the bathrooms to make sure Ryke and Connor aren’t returning soon. Then he twists his body towards me. Our knees knock together, and I have a sudden urge to lean in closer, to intertwine our legs and feel his lean muscles against my body. This is serious, I remind myself, pushing away those selfish thoughts.

“It was about my mom,” Lo confesses. All dirty images evaporate, being replaced by sheer concern. “Somehow, he found out I contacted her.” Lo pauses and rubs his lips in deep thought. “He told me that she wanted nothing to do with me.” My chest constricts. “He told me that she doesn’t deserve to think about me or to even hear my voice.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “He said she was a fucking cunt.”

I cringe.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Lil, I think…I think I agree with him.” Wrinkles crease his forehead in utter confusion as he struggles to make sense of his warring emotions.

“Your mother left you,” I say. “It’s okay to be angry at her. It doesn’t make you him.”

His lips press together as he processes my words, and I wish I had more to offer. He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the temple, a small thank you, before he turns around on his stool and flags down the bartender for another drink.

She pours bourbon in a Riedel glass and slides it into his hand.

“How long before you want to go to the bathroom?” I ask.

“I don’t know. My bladder is pretty big. I could go at least another couple hours,” Lo says. He smiles into his glass, and I give him a sharp look.

He hooks his foot under the rung of my stool and slides it forward. Oh wow. My hip knocks into his and he snakes an arm around my waist, melding me to his side. This is kind of nice. I feel his hand run up underneath my shirt and rub the soft skin on my back.

I start dreaming about having sex right here. Lo taking me across the bar in a sultry heat. Sex on a bar.

It’d be like our addictions making love.

His lips tickle my ear. Back to reality. “What are you thinking?”

I think he knows because he smiles and nibbles my ear.

“Get a room,” Connor exclaims, sidling up beside me while Ryke sits down beside Lo.

“Or better yet,” Ryke says, “a car.”

“How about Connor’s limo?” Lo asks with a smile. “Do you think your driver would mind?”

“I would mind,” Connor tells him. “You’re charming, Lo, but not enough to make me want to sit in your—”

“Stop.” I cringe and cover my ears. Gross. Guy-talk. No.

All three of them laugh and I wave down the bartender. “What do you want?” Lo asks me.

“Just a beer.”

He nods and lets me order for myself. I slide my fake ID to the bartender, and she hands me a Blue Moon.

“You don’t want to go in those bathrooms,” Connor tells Lo. “They’re disgusting. I think I might call the CDC when we leave. You need a hazmat suit just to walk in there.”