Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(92)

I feel rooted to this bar stool. Like if I slink away it will implode. “You’re scaring me,” I murmur.

His gaze softens a fraction. “I’m fine, Lily. Honestly.” He keeps his hands to his liquor and fries, not touching me in comfort. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave, and it’ll be before I pass out.”

My chest clenches. “I’m going to go dance with Connor.”

Lo nods and doesn’t try to stop me as I leave the stool.

I find Connor and Ryke lingering by a high-table near the dance floor. “And?” Ryke asks instantly.

“He says he’s not drunk.”

Ryke gives me a disgusted look. “Yeah? No shit, Lily. He’s got a problem! He’s going to fucking tell you he’s sober.”

“What makes you an expert?” I shout back. “So you quit drinking, that doesn’t mean you know how to fix Lo!”

“You’re right,” Ryke says. “This is beyond me. He needs professional help.”

Tears gather. “Stop.” I want Lo to be helped. I do, but I can’t imagine a world where he’s torn from my life. What will become of me?

“Anyone with a heart would care, Lily,” Ryke says. “So the better question is why don’t you?”

The punch to my stomach knocks me back. It hurts too much to breathe, and the hardest part is trying to defend myself to me. I do care. I’ve kept Lo from sitting behind a wheel. I’ve made sure he returns home in one piece. I’ve protected him. From everyone but himself.

I glance at Connor as I try to wrack my brain for the right words, but for the first time he’s become silent. Avoiding my gaze by peeling back the label to his beer bottle. He agrees with Ryke?

I let out a short laugh that borders on a choke. “I guess I’m just a terrible girlfriend.” And I believe it. In more ways than one.

I push through the sea of bodies, not having the heart or stomach to watch Ryke and Connor’s reactions. My hand shakes like a junkie needing a fix and my head spins from all the lights. I stumble over plastic cups and brush against someone on my way to the bathroom.

The stalls line up in a single row, doors ajar and empty. I lean over a sink, writing scrawled in permanent marker all over the basin. Wash up. Tina was here! Use Soap, you dirty wench! Blow me.

The door creaks and I glance over. A nameless guy with a face like a wolf, scruffy chin and dark eyes, saunters in. Is he the one I accidentally brushed up against? I don’t break his gaze, and he takes the invitation.

His hands linger on my hips questioningly, and I brace the porcelain basin in response. Rough kisses press into my neck and for a moment it feels better. It feels like it could be okay again. When my jeans lower and the cold air prickles my skin—I jolt awake.

“No.” I will not cheat on Loren Hale. No matter if anyone tells me how bad of person I am.

He doesn’t hear me or doesn’t take the hint. Hands grab my ass, only a thin layer of fabric between him and me and scoring. Fuck.

“No,” I say louder, employing the one word I’ve always avoided.

His hands slip beneath my panties and I try to turn around and pull away. But he pushes against me hard, and my stomach slams into the sink, nearly taking my breath. “Stop!” I struggle and try to kick out, but I’m all skin and bone and he’s all brawn and hunger.

Tears fall down my cheeks as I try and scream, but the thumping music bleeds into the bathroom, drowning out my pleas.

What do I do? What the fuck do I do?!

Maybe I should just take it. Get it over with. Act like I want it. Convince my body that it’s another pursuit. Make it okay. Make myself believe it’s some fantasy.

My tears dry up and I try to fight one last time only to be slammed against the basin. I cough hoarsely.

Time to pretend, Lily. Make believe. It’s what you’re good at.

Just as I close my eyes, the door crashes open.

“Get the fuck off her!” Screaming. Terrible screaming. And the pressure behind me leaves. I’m numb, but I subconsciously pull up my jeans, covering myself like this is any other night.

I look to my left, and Ryke grips the guy by the arms, fighting against his drunken, hostile movements. The guy swings. Ryke ducks, and then slams him into a stall. The guy falls hard into a toilet bowl, his forehead hitting the porcelain lip, and his legs splay out the door.

Ryke clenches him by the shirt, lifting him up. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screams. But I feel like that question should be directed at me.

Connor steps in front of my transfixed gaze, but I stare past his eyes.

“Where’s Lo?” My voice is small and not my own.

“He’s still at the bar,” Connor says softly. “Lily.” He waves a hand in my face. “Lily, look at me.”

I do, but I don’t. I’ve never changed my mind after I invited someone to have sex with me. I’ve never been hurt by my addiction. Not like this.

Ryke kicks the guy in the groin and then bangs the stall door on him.

This is all wrong. Lo should be here, not Connor and Ryke.

“I want to go home,” I murmur.

Ryke puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me out of the bathroom and away from my attacker—or at least a guy who doesn’t understand the word no. A frown weighs down his face. “I need to go find Lo. Connor will you…”