Ricochet (Addicted #1.5)(13)

His eyes darken. “Anything else you’re keeping from me?”

Think. “Uhh...vomiting and nausea. That’s it.”

He nods. “I’ll drive her to the hospital. She’ll be fine. Just, don’t have a panic attack in the street. Think you can do that?”

I glare. “Yes.”

Thankfully we reach the dimly lit parking deck and approach his Infinity that’s squeezed in between a Mini Cooper and a BMW. “My keys are in my pocket,” he tells me.

I glance at his pants pocket. Near his crotch.

He rolls his eyes. “Now’s not the time to be perverted, Calloway.”

“Right,” I say, reaching in, my cheeks flaming. He doesn’t look happy about me digging near his penis either. I pull out his set of keys and press the unlock button. The car honks and blinks to life, the taillights flashing.

“Get in the passenger seat, and I’ll put Daisy on your lap,” he tells me. I do as he says, and he sets my gangly sister on the seat with me. I drape her long legs to the side and put my hand to her head, clammy and cold. I rest her cheek to my chest. In this moment, I feel solely responsible for her.

“To the hospital,” I remind him.

“I know.” He turns the key into the ignition and pulls onto the street. Only five minutes in, and we’re stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. So many people wander on the roads that they thud into Ryke’s car and throw confetti at the windshield.

I keep my fingers pressed to Daisy’s wrist, checking her pulse every few seconds.

As we sit in silence, I watch girls on the side streets, swaying as they walk in heels, their guys keeping an arm underneath them so they don’t face-plant on the cement. The couples remind me of Lo—only I would have been the one holding him upright. Not the other way around.

Last year, I wore this sparkly silver dress and decided to be pantyless the entire night. I thought it’d be easier for a quickie in the bathroom with Mr. Random. In retrospect, it was a bad, bad idea. I danced all night at a fancy club and was too inebriated to realize that I flashed the crowds with every hop.

Lo ended up dancing beside me, keeping a hand on my shoulder to ease my Kangaroo springs. He even tugged down the back of my dress for me. Near midnight, he offered to give me his underwear, which I promptly declined. I love the whole memory—even if it’s a royally fucked up one. The only thing I try to forget is the end of that night. Where he booked a room at the Ritz to pass out in, and I slinked into a bedroom one floor below to screw some guy.

“Do you think he’ll still want to be with me when he gets back?” I ask softly. Even if I wait for him, I wonder if he’ll still wait for me.

Ryke clenches the steering wheel tightly. “I don’t know.”

“What do you know?” I wonder, pulling Daisy’s sweaty hair out of her face.

Ryke gives me a solid glare. “You masturbate too much.”

My eyes widen, and I instinctively glance down at Daisy who is in another dimension. She may not have even heard. Hopefully.

“She probably won’t remember anything,” Ryke tells me.

That doesn’t stop the mortification from swallowing my face. Of course he couldn’t restrain himself from commenting about what I was doing in the bathroom.

Before I find the courage to reply back, Daisy groans and her lids flutter. I see the whites of her eyes until they roll back to show the green.

“Dais.” I shake her arm.

She turns her head a little, sluggish and weak. Her eyes rise to meet Ryke’s. He keeps one hand firmly on the steering wheel, his fingers clenched around it as he stares down at her. After a long moment of the two of them just fucking staring at each other, Ryke asks, “You going to puke?”

She blinks heavily and says, “No.”

Ryke clicks off his seatbelt and puts the car in park. He opens his car door.

“What are you doing?” I gape at him.

“She was being sarcastic,” he tells me.

I frown. That did not sound like sarcasm.

He walks around the Infinity to our side, able to leave the driver’s seat. He yanks my door open, and she slowly spins her body to face the outside, her feet on the edge of the car. She leans a hand on the door frame and breathes heavily, her color peaked.

I rub her back while her head begins to droop. She nearly falls forward into the street. I grab her shoulders to keep her on my lap, and Ryke kneels in front of her. He lifts her chin up with two fingers.

“Daisy, look at me.” He snaps his fingers near her eyes.

I can’t tell if she’s meeting his gaze or not.

“Some…fucking party, huh?” Her whole body shakes.

“Yeah,” Ryke nods, his eyes flitting over her arms and legs, noticing her trembles. “Some fucking party.”

“That…was…rhetorical.” Her body lurches, gagging. Ryke quickly moves out of the way and she vomits onto the pavement. He grimaces, and people start chanting outside.

“10…9…”

We’re too far away to see the glittering ball drop, but the crowds scream in unison, filling the world in a jubilant chorus.

This has to be one of the worst and scariest New Year’s ever. Right behind the time I kissed a frog as a dare. Though that wasn’t so much scary as it was gross.

“7…”