Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(108)

Loren wears a supreme grin. “You two…” He shakes his head as he sidles next to his girlfriend. “Who would have thought the most responsible people in this house are the ones who get baked? Congratulations, you officially fit in our group.”

“Our friendship circle,” Connor clarifies.

I erupt into another fit of laughter. Connor picks me up in his arms again, carrying me towards the kitchen and setting me right on the counter.

“Can we stay and watch?” Lily asks excitedly.

“We’ll be seeing this on the next episode,” Loren reminds her.

“I want the unedited version though.”

Connor touches my leg. “You okay?” he asks, concerned even when he’s stoned.

“I’m not paranoid. Maybe it’s good weed.” But as long as I have Connor, I know I could ride out a bad trip.

What a weird version of love.

And it’s all mine.





[ 42 ]

CONNOR COBALT



The living room has been cleared out. Soft padded mats line the floor. Daisy is already jumping up and down, preparing for the self-defense lessons that Ryke, Loren, and I have promised the girls. I offered to hire a real instructor, but Ryke told me he was practically licensed.

I reminded him that being able to beat someone up doesn’t make him a good teacher. And then he said, “Stop f*cking annoying me and go light a joint.”

I’ve been insulted far better.

Scott Van Wright aired the small segment of Rose and I giggling stupidly and devouring the leftover tacos. Since there wasn’t actual footage of us smoking, the backlash from the episode was minimal. There’ve been too many reality stars lying in their own vomit to be shocked by two young adults in unintelligible fits of laughter.

The only downside, I looked stupid for the first time in my life.

And I don’t care. It took twenty-four years to obtain this type of apathy. In college, if someone saw me as less than smart, at the bottom of the class, it felt life-ending. If they thought I was a prick, fine. If they thought I was a social climber, fine. Weird, whatever.

Stupid was the word that sliced me cold. Failure was the act that would leave me dead.

In one day, I had failed Wharton. Failed my “supposed” dream. And then I did something that made me into a stupider version of myself.

And today, I can say “I don’t care” and mean it.

I’m twenty-four-years-old. I always thought I was done growing up. But being with Rose has made me grow into the version of myself that I love the most.

My fears are no longer so selfish and so pretentiously vain.

Rose tells me, “If I’m being attacked, I’m taking out my pepper spray and Taser. I won’t use my fists first. That’s a last resort.”

“What if you don’t have time for all of that?” I ask her. I can’t help but smile every time I eye her clothes. No tennis shoes. No yoga pants or T-shirt. She chose wedges, leather shorts and a white cotton top, tucked in like she’s about to attend a lunch meeting. Loren told her to go change, and she looked like she wanted to rip off his face.

I know better.

“Not all paparazzi are despicable,” she says. “I’m sure someone would have a moral bone and help me against angry hecklers.”

“What if the paparazzi aren’t around?”

She holds up her finger. “One time,” she tells me. “Only one time in the past four months have I been alone in public. And that was when Lily drove down five wrong streets in a row.”

“Hey!” Lily speaks up. She’s on the ground in proper workout clothes like Daisy. Only she wears her furry white cap that’s more suited for the snow than warm, mid-May weather. It has tusks and apparently it’s something called a Wampa from Star Wars. The only reason I can see her wearing it is Loren. Every time he glances her way, his breathing deepens and his amber eyes glaze in desire, looking ready to mount her.

Lily stands to her feet, abandoning whatever move Loren was trying to show her. “I only drove down the wrong streets because the GPS was in French.”

Rose gives her a look. “You were the one who put it in French.”

“Only because I’m trying to learn the language,” Lily explains, “so that I can know what the hell you two talk about behind our backs.”

Last episode was the first time they aired us speaking French to each other. Production included subtitles.

Our conversation revolved around Lily and went something like this on TV.

ROSE: She’s losing weight. I can see her ribs.

ME: That’s a shadow.

ROSE: It’s not a shadow. It’s her skeleton.

ME: I have a physics book upstairs. I’m sure it talks about light and shadows. Do you want it?

ROSE: Why would you have a physics book? You’re a business student.

ME: For moments like these.

It was one of our more calm exchanges in French, but Lily wasn’t amused by the fact that we were discussing her weight—right in front of her.

Apparently they all thought that we just argue about “smart people” things (Lily’s words) and that we have a rule to not talk about them in French.

I do have a rule.

If you want to understand me, learn my language.

Ryke and Daisy don’t seem to care that we could have talked about them, but Lily and Loren are aggravated.