Ricochet (Addicted #1.5)(22)

He mulls this over and then whispers, “I’d rather be Hellion.”

I know. I’d rather be Veil most of the time and escape my most embarrassing moments by whisking into nothingness, but the truth is, I’m probably not even worthy of being compared to an X-Men. At least Lo is like someone. At least he can relate.

He glances down at me as I begin to fall asleep. “How’s your ankle?”

“Wonderful,” I whisper, “because I’m not standing on it.”

“I think we have an ice pack in the fridge.”

My eyes shut fully. “Mmm, sounds nice.”

He kisses the top of my head and then whispers, “I love you, Lil.”

We say the words all the time, but the power has not been lost. They mean more to me than he’ll know. Because at the end of the day, this type of love is different than a first-sight encounter with a man at a bar, a crush in prep school or a bubbling, new romance. Our I love yous encompass years of heartache, of hurt, of laughter and pain.

And every time we say the words, I feel the rush of our childhood. I couldn’t imagine ever losing that.



*



After a full night of icing the muscle, I’m so chilly in the morning that I crave warmth. At ten a.m., I fill up a bubble bath and lie in the soapy suds, letting my injury soak in the soothing waters. Bliss doesn’t even define this feeling. That is…until Lo opens the bathroom door and sluggishly walks in. I sink further down into the water and gather some foamy bubbles to hide my naked body.

“You have your own bathroom,” I remind him as he runs water under his toothbrush. A blue Spider-Man one that he carried in here.

He turns around, supporting himself against the edge of my counter. Only drawstring pants on that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. But I keep my eyes firmly planted on his.

“I wanted to see how your ankle was doing,” he admits before putting his toothbrush in his mouth. One week into college, and I still haven’t fully adjusted to living with him. We were comfortable before, but sharing space has blurred even more lines that really didn’t need any more blurring.

“I’m warming it,” I explain and lift my foot up from the water, leaving out the part about wanting the heat a lot more than my ankle needing it.

I didn’t expect him to walk over, toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth, and press his fingers to the swollen area. I try not to let the pain cross my face too much.

Lo pops the toothbrush from his mouth and points to me. “Bed rest for you,” he orders before turning and spitting into the sink. He rinses and squishes with water.

“You feel okay?” I ask, watching him wipe his lips on the towel.

When he returns his attention to me, his eyes land on the bath. “I could use a bubble bath,” he says, a smile playing at his lips. Another moment where I should say no and not submit to his teasing and playfulness.

But the words just don’t come, and he’s already shedding his pants down to his black boxer-briefs and hopping right into the waters. The Jacuzzi is large enough for seven people, so it’s not that awkward.

He lets out a loud moan as he sinks into the waters. I can’t help but smile.

“Just don’t come any closer,” I warn. “I’m naked.” I flush at the words.

It’s his turn to smile, a mischievous one that I do not like.

“Lo,” I warn again.

He raises his hands from the water, coming in peace. “I’m staying right here.” Good. “It’s you that we both should be worried about.” I frown. He may be right about that. I scoot a little further back, avoiding his silly smile. I press my body firmly to the porcelain tub.

After a moment, Lo clears his throat and plays with the bubbles, running them between his fingers. “So…last night, did he use a condom?”

“Yeah.” I nod, giving into his question even though I have no desire to talk about last night.

“You know because college guys are different,” Lo says, still fixated on the bubbles.

“They’re hornier,” I agree. It’s my very own sexual playground. Maybe that’s why Lo looks so concerned.

“They drink more,” he adds, “and may forget to use one. You can’t let that happen, okay?”

For the past week, I’ve been so neurotic about Lo being in college, surrounded by parties every night where the liquor never runs out (most of the time). I never thought he’d have fears about me.

Against better judgment, I scoot forward a little and nudge his foot with mine. At least, I hope it’s his foot. I can’t really tell through all the bubbles. “I’ll be fine,” I say confidently, “I’m always the one in control during sex. I call the shots.” It helps that I don’t drink since I usually need to drive Lo home afterwards. Last night we had Nola drop us off with the intention of going home at a reasonable hour without the cop lights flashing in the background. Oops.

“Do you even realize how small you are?” Lo asks in disbelief. “Honestly, Lil.”

I splash some bubbles in his face. “I’m big enough.”

“You’re ridiculously skinny and five foot five. I’m big.”

My eyes drift down. Unintentional. At least I hope so. He’s already smiling again and my cheeks burn. “Can we move on?” I ask, partly whining. “I just don’t know what you want me to say.” He won’t tell me to stop, so there’s no use in revolving around this topic like some vomit-inducing carousel on a playground.