Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(62)

Ian licks his lips again. “I’m just laying it out there. You deserve to know the truth. She even moaned when I stuck my finger in her *. Did you know she liked that?”

I f*cking punch him, my knuckles socking his jaw hard. He knocks into the high-table, beer bottles shattering on the floor. He raises his hands in surrender really quickly.

“Whoa, whoa,” he stammers.

“I don’t know where you f*cking come from,” I tell him. “But where I grew up, a guy would get more than a sucker-punch to the f*cking face for what you’ve said to me.”

“I didn’t think you were seriously together,” Ian says, touching his reddened jaw like I’ve damaged his career.

My body is begging my mind to go and claim Daisy with more than just words. Fucking kiss her.

But people have whipped out their camera phones, recording our confrontation for the internet.

I can’t do a f*cking thing. I can’t solidify this relationship in front of the whole f*cking world. Not without huge consequences.

“Let’s go,” Daisy says, tugging me towards the door. “Christina, come on.”

“She wants to stay with me,” Ian speaks up. “Right, Christina?”

Daisy wraps her arm around Christina’s shoulder. “We’re partying together, sorry.”

“She has a voice,” he tells Daisy, waiting for Christina to make a decision.

She timidly points towards the door. “I’m going to stick with Daisy.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and Daisy squeezes her shoulder.

“Girl power,” Daisy exclaims with a bright smile that carries so much energy. It lights up the whole room. “Come on.” She lets go of my hand and clasps Christina’s, swinging her arm as they reach the door. Christina immediately looks relieved and smiles with this newfound happiness.

Ian takes a step forward, and I put my hand on his chest.

“Don’t even f*cking try.” That girl has to be fourteen or fifteen, and from what Daisy has told me about her weird night with him, I doubt he cares about that girl’s age.

He stays put, and then I follow the girls out, spotting my brother and Connor on the congested street already.

“Everyone is a giant!” Daisy howls into the night sky. Literally, like a wolf. “We’re in the land of tall people!”

Christina can’t stop laughing, and Daisy turns her head to see me watching.

I raise my brows at her like what the f*ck are you doing? And she howls again and points at the full moon. “Like my mating call?” she asks me.

“I don’t see any f*cking guys responding to it.”

“I do,” she says with a smile, staring right at me.

“Right. If that’s true, then I’ll be humping you later, sweetheart.” My eyes lighten a little more because this time—there is f*cking truth to our banter.

“Doggy-style or are you just going to be grinding on my leg?”

“Not your leg.”

“Higher?”

“Well what’s the other alternative? I’m not going to f*ck your ankles.”

She raises her hands in defense. “There are some people into feet.”

“I’m into *. Now you know.” My unfiltered response causes her to flush.

She grins. “I should howl more often then.” She’s cute. She always is. I’d kiss her if I could, but I need to check on my brother.

I glance over at Lo. He’s staring at the sky like he wishes he could settle among the stars for f*cking eternity and never have to live this life. I hate that look. It’s one that I used to wear when I was fifteen, kicking shit over and screaming at the top of my lungs. I’d end up exhausted, collapsed on the grass of my yard, and I’d look up at the f*cking sky and think what am I doing here? Why the f*ck am I in this world? Living shouldn’t be this painful.

My life had no meaning until I decided to turn around and meet my brother.

I can’t lose him to this disease…or because of the choices I’ve made.

Connor has his hand on Lo’s shoulder, his lips moving like he’s talking him down from a f*cking cliff. I feel like I put him there.

The traffic is gridlocked, taxis barely budging. We have a short walk back to the hotel, and most of the paparazzi have dispersed. Instead, the streets are full of sports fans, those red and white jerseys everywhere.

In the distance, the Eiffel Tower glows green. The screen on the front of the f*cking mammoth structure plays footage from the Rugby World Cup.

When I glance back at Daisy, her smile is gone. She shrugs at me and then turns to Christina, whispering in her ear. I wish she had no affiliation to my brother. I wish they never knew each other—then all of this would be so f*cking simple.

The girls start watching a couple guys bicker by the curb, fighting about women or maybe the rugby game. I can’t tell from here, but they’re drunk, spitting out their insults and puffing out their chests.

The construction nearby forces people to draw closer than they normally would. Scaffolding juts out from the pub next door, losing space, and plywood and other materials are thrown around the cement, covering divots and potholes.

“Hey, let’s head back,” I tell Daisy.

She nods to me but doesn’t take her eyes off the growing fight. More and more people push onto the sidewalk, separating me from my little brother. I weave in between guys to reach him. Most are models and beefy fans. I even spot a portly guy doing a keg stand, his feet held up by his friends. His jersey falls to his neck, and his large stomach lolls over his jeans. His friend jiggles his fat while they all laugh.