Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(37)

I don’t understand why bad shit has to happen to people with good intentions. I feel like I’m serving an eternal sentence of bad karma for not meeting my brother as a teenager.

“What’s wrong?” Emilia says.

“I need to f*cking call someone. Rain check?”

“What is it?” she asks.

“It’s too f*cking hard to explain.” I point to the living room. “I have to call a friend. You can take a shower, and then I’ll drive you home.”

She wavers before she says, “Fine.” She leans in for a kiss, but I end up planting one on her forehead. I don’t wait to contemplate whether or not I’ve hurt her f*cking feelings; I just shut the door behind me and sit on my couch, the computer on my lap.

I Skype Daisy back, waiting for her to answer my call.

She doesn’t.

I dial her again and then take out my phone. I text: Fucking answer me. The reply comes almost immediately.

I’ll call you on the phone. – Daisy

No. I need to see your face.

She rejects my third Skype session, so I’m forced to f*cking call her by cell. She answers. “I’m sorry,” she immediately says. “You called me on Skype like three minutes ago. I thought you wanted to talk. I didn’t see much at all, I promise. Just…go back to doing what you were doing—”

“I can’t. We need to f*cking talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says quickly.

I rub my eyes. “Daisy…” What do I say? I’m sorry for going down on another girl? Daisy isn’t my girlfriend. I also warned her that I would be dating again. If this is the right path, then why the f*ck do I feel like I need to explain myself?

The answer is there, I just don’t want to f*cking accept it. It can’t be my reality.

“Look, I’m sorry you had to see that. Believe me, this is the last f*cking thing I wanted to happen.”

“It’s okay. It’s just the cherry on top of a really, really weird night. So weird, that I think it’s going to take years to scrub it all from my brain.”

I frown, my eyes narrowing at the floor. “No one broke into your room, right…” Fuck, Ryke. I run my hand through my hair. I can’t suggest shit like that. “I didn’t think they would.” I don’t want her to think that someone can get in.

“Not weird like that,” she says, her voice high-pitched. Her paranoia practically ekes through the phone line. Her breathing shallows for a second.

“Hey,” I snap. “Have you taken Ambien tonight?”

She clears her throat to calm down. “I will after I get off the phone.”

“Fucking promise me.”

“I f*cking promise you,” she says. I hear the smile in her voice.

There’s a soft knock on the door frame to my bedroom. I look up. Emilia stands there, wearing one of my T-shirts. It barely covers her thighs. “Towels?” she whispers.

I point to the hall closet, and she tiptoes there, my shirt riding up to her waist. I don’t look at her bare ass. Mostly because it feels like I’m cheating on Daisy. The guilt just keeps on coming.

I wait for Emilia to return to my room so she can’t hear my conversation. I’ve been in the media long enough to know that friends can f*ck you over quickly. Strangers even faster. Eavesdropping on one of my conversations and selling whatever the f*ck I said to a magazine was the easiest paycheck five of my old college friends have ever made.

I don’t necessarily hate them. I just don’t go on snowboarding trips and to birthday f*cking parties when I’m invited anymore. Two years ago, when the Calloway girls, my brother and Connor were swept up into this publicity mess, I realized we had to band together to survive. From that moment, I knew it was going to be hard trusting anyone beyond the six of us. How can you when a simple fact like I hate Justin Bieber could be worth a grand to a magazine?

The phone line is quiet.

“You still there?” I ask Daisy.

“Yeah.” She pauses. “I don’t want to ruin your time with your…date. We’ll talk later.”

“Fuck that,” I tell her. I haven’t been able to get Daisy on the phone in days. She won’t even let me look at her face. I have no idea the amount of sleep she’s been actually getting. I just want to make sure she’s okay. “What was weird about tonight?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

“Now I really f*cking do.”

She lets out a short breath. “I saw Connor’s penis.”

What? “Excuse me?”

“I was looking at porn, and I accidentally stumbled upon Rose and Connor’s sex tape. Hence, his penis. To think, I managed to dodge the explicit version for a whole year. I thought I was going to get away without seeing it forever.”

I lean back against my couch and pinch the bridge of my nose in a cringe. Not a lot can make Connor Cobalt f*cking uncomfortable, but learning that his girlfriend’s little sister saw him having sex—that may do it. My face has hardened in a wince.

And I have a hard time imagining her seeing anyone’s dick but mine. Nausea barrels through me.

“Are you going to say something?” she asks.

“I haven’t even seen those videos.”