Ricochet (Addicted #1.5)(44)

I didn’t know how he’d react. If he’d call me a slut, kick me out for being dirty. But I had never lied to him before, and I couldn’t bear the thought of starting. So I spilled everything in the briefest way possible. I didn’t want him to think I had been taken advantage of, so I made sure to emphasize that I’ve been seeking out most of the guys lately. That I liked sex.

His first question was, “Does Rose know?”

I shook my head, told him that I didn’t want to tell anyone else.

“I can keep a secret,” he said, but his words didn’t ease the panic in my chest.

He knows, I kept thinking over and over.

He sensed my alarm and gave me a reassuring nudge in the side. His warm amber eyes met mine, a little concerned but more understanding. I let out a small breath of relief.

“Just…can you let me know if you’re going to do it at the parties? If someone hurts you—”

“I’m careful.”

His eyes darkened. “Still. We look out for each other. Okay?”

“Okay.”

So I did. We reveled in our acts and hid our secrets from other people. To everyone else we were Fizzle and Hale Co. To each other, we were safety, love, and free from judgment and scorn. At fourteen, Lo finally lost his virginity.

To me.

One sloppy night that we buried with our hedonism.

We moved on like always, and by sixteen I was having sex at least once a month. Senior year, we became a fake couple and everything changed yet again. He kissed me. I kissed back. And I believed all along that we were pretending. But there were times where I questioned it. Where our “practicing” and the teasing turned to sinful touching. More than we probably should have.

When I left for college, I couldn’t last more than a week without some kind of release, and I wasted hours to porn. Having a place away from my parents became my bane. Everything escalated; my rituals began at dawn and ended at dusk. An obsession that cut into my sleep, my dreams, my everything. It consumed me whole like some sort of rabid beast.

Lo and I may have enabled each other for years, but I know for certain I’d be on a street corner or worse if Lo hadn’t been there. Whenever I felt like I was spiraling, I turned to him. To talk. About anything really. His companionship was my saving grace.

My mouth dries as I finish spilling my life story. I feel cut up and drained and really can’t believe I let it all out like some sort of emotional flood. Dr. Banning stares at me with an expression I can’t gauge, but she must think that I’m fucked up beyond help. Our co-dependent relationship began as children, and even though we’ve hurt each other, we’ve also been the only real support system for so many years. How do you fix that without damaging it as well?

“Have you changed your mind?” I ask her. “Are you thinking we shouldn’t be together after all?”

Dr. Banning taps her pen to the notebook. “No. I just think you both have a lot you need to work out. And hopefully we’ll reach that point. I want you to uncover the source of this addiction, Lily, and maybe I’ll be able to help you get there in time.”

She’s telling me there may be an answer, but I’m not going to have it anytime soon. I can wait. “I just…want to know what I should expect. Are you going to give me medicine? Am I going to need to go through the twelve-steps or something?”

Dr. Banning shakes her head. “No medication. Drugs aren’t going to solve your problem.”

“But…I can’t sleep…” Nights are horrible. All I want is to orgasm, to feel this release, this high and if I don’t take a sleeping pill, then how will I rest?

“Right now, there’s an imbalance in your oxytocin levels. With compulsive orgasms, you’ve offset chemicals in your body. That’s why you’re going through withdrawals. It’s important that the chemicals readjust to a normal balance. You’ll be able to cope better and fight sexual compulsions. Drugs will only mask the problem.”

I try to process her words, and my head begins to float away. “What about when I’m sad?” With Lo absent, I feel such a strong pressure on my chest. I’ve always heard about depression, but I never understood how debilitating it can be. Some days, I just want to go to sleep and never wake up.

“I can give you a prescription,” she tells me. “But I’d rather you didn’t take any anti-depressants. Like I said, the chemicals in your body need to readjust. They’ve been out of flux for probably a long time. Now, will you be going through the twelve-step program? No.”

I frown. “But Lo...”

“You’re not an alcoholic,” she tells me. “The goal of the twelve-step program is to completely eliminate the addiction from the addict’s life. For sex addicts, that is unfeasible. Sex is a part of nature. Alcohol is not. Your sister knew this, which was why she didn’t want you to go to an in-treatment facility that promoted the twelve-step program for sex addiction. Permanent celibacy is not going to be the answer. Intimacy with your partner is what we’re going to strive for.”

Intimacy with your partner. “So Lo…”

She nods as though she can read my thoughts. “When he returns from rehab, he’ll be an important part in your recovery. I’d love for him to accompany you to some of the meetings.”

I blush. “I’m not sure he’ll want to do that…”