Thrive (Addicted, #4)(108)

“Like where?” I ask.

“I’ve fucked all over,” he says conversationally. I must admit, he has a gift in speaking without restraint or shame. It’s like he owns who he is to the fullest degree.

I wish I could be like that about sex. But I think it’s a little different being a girl.

“The beach,” he lists.

I shake my head. “Sand is evil.”

“But in the early morning, it’s so fucking beautiful.”

I can’t recall a morning beach hookup for myself. Night, most definitely.

“Bathrooms,” he continues.

“Even the dirty ones?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t really notice.” He adds, “Parks, elevators, golf courses, locker rooms, the woods—love the woods.”

“Did you ever have sex at your high school?” I ask.

He nods. “Under the bleachers like a cliché.”

I smile. “Me too.”

He raises his water bottle in a toast.

“Lo and I had sex in a movie theater once,” I tell him. “He actually bought every ticket just so we could do it.”

Ryke’s brows shoot up. “Before you went into recovery, I assume.”

I nod. It was when he wanted to satiate my every whim and desire, which turned into one big enabling factory. But it was fun. I can’t deny that. Even though we’re having public sex, I doubt Lo would ever buy out a theater again. Some things go too far.

“I fucked this gypsy at a carnival once,” he says, his arm stretching over the back of the couch, “right underneath her table. We knocked over the crystal ball.” He smiles at the memory like it’s a good one. Like the whole event was more than just a climax for him. That’s not how I ever saw sex. I didn’t seek out wild places to fuck. They were just convenient at the time. Settings to get me what I wanted.

“I did it at a carnival or amusement park or…whatever,” I say. “On the Ferris wheel though.”

“While it was moving?” Surprise infiltrates his voice.

“Yeah, I mean, he didn’t last long.” My throat tightens, trying not to think about the messy details.

Ryke’s face falls a little. Maybe he’s just now realizing that I’m not talking about Lo. I test out this theory by saying, “I also did it with a guy I met at a cotton candy booth. Same night.”

He shifts forward, removing his arm from the couch, darkness clouding him. I can tell he’s trying to push it away, but when his gaze meets mine, there’s more understanding, more empathy for my addiction than I’ve ever seen before.

Me and him. We’re not the same. He can reminisce about all the places he’s fucked with laughs and smiles, rehashing stories that involve beginnings, middles, and satisfying conclusions. With orgasms and no shame in the end. My past is littered with hurt and regret. I’d rather leave it all in the fog.

He was right. He won’t ever join my club.

It’s just me.

By my lonesome.

How it should be.

“You ready?” Lo’s voice wakes me from my reverie. He stands in the doorway with wet hair and a sharpened jawline. His eyes flit from my head to my toes, assessing my state. And then he nods to me like you’re okay. I rise to my feet and gladly walk straight into his arms.

Maybe I’m not so alone.





{ 52 }

2 years : 01 month September





LILY CALLOWAY


Landed.

Flight was pretty good, almost no turbulence. – Lo Rugby World Cup is going on in Paris this weekend. Horrible traffic. – Lo

Daisy looks shaken up. – Lo I scroll

through my old text conversation with Lo, rereading each word. His road trip with his brother and Connor had to take a major detour and pit stop for my little sister.

She had some sort of night terror…are you sure you don’t want to come up? – Lo Is Rose raging right now? – Lo Rose paces

in front of me, slamming her fingers violently on the screen of her phone.

Raging, yes. Fuming, yes. She growls and looks like she’s ready to chuck her phone across the room. “Connor won’t snap a picture of her and send it to me,”

she says. “How am I supposed to verify that Daisy is okay without evidence?”

I rest an

elbow on the checkout counter at Superheroes & Scones, the store opening in a couple hours. “Trust,” I say, a pit in my stomach. “We have to believe that they’re telling us everything.” I scroll through my messages again, silently cursing Lo for being such a brief texter.

I should

just focus on my book that’s cracked open for my Options, Futures and Financial Derivatives course. Every page is highlighted with neon yellow marks, my fingertips stained that color. But the sentences blur together, my mind in Paris with the guys and my little sister.

“We can

fly in tomorrow,” I suggest.

Lo did

call to deliver a more detailed account of what happened. Daisy was thrown out of a runway show only minutes before she was supposed to walk, and the designer basically ripped off her clothes. In front of everyone backstage. I would have been mortified if that was me, so I wasn’t surprised that she was upset. But I am a little shocked that she chose to call Ryke and only Ryke about the incident.