Thrive (24 page)

“Andrea and I were discussing how great it is to have
someone like Rose in the public eye. She’s a female figure that we believe a
lot of women can rally behind.”

What…?

Off my frown, Andrea says, “She’s been with Connor Cobalt
for over a year, and she’s stayed committed to him through everything.”

Wendy nods in agreement. “Especially after her ex-boyfriend
tried to break them apart. It’s empowering to have someone like Rose out
there—she’s independent, driven, and sexually open. I wouldn’t be surprised if
women start asking her for relationship advice.”

Rose? Relationship advice? I never thought I’d hear those
words. Or that a sex tape could be spun positively rather than negatively.

I don’t understand. Wouldn’t she be slandered and outcast
like me? A weight just drops on my chest.

“That’s a great idea actually,” Andrea says. “Do you think
your sister would be open to a short column on the blog? It can be about sex
tips, a guide to dating, anything in that field.”
Sex tips?

“I don’t know,” I say in a small voice. Rose is being lauded
for having a boyfriend for over a year, for only sleeping with him. But I’ve
been with too many no-named guys. She’s a model that other people can copy
whereas I’m dirty, right? No one should follow my footsteps.

I never thought of it like that.

I never thought that she’d be praised and I’d still be
condemned.

It’s not fair.

If I had been committed to Loren Hale all my life, would
people love me more?

Probably.

Andrea and Wendy examine all of my reactions like they’re
going to jot this down for an article. I think I mumble a goodbye, and then I
just kind of drift away in a daze. Minutes must pass before I hear a familiar
sound.

“Lily.” Lo’s concerned voice seems so distant. “I’ve been
looking for you…Lil?” His hands go to my face, still standing in the ballroom,
closer to the ornate wall.

“You were right,” I breathe. He was so right.

“Right about what?” His voice is low, like the hollow of a
cave.

“Connor and Rose don’t need us.” They never needed us like
we need them. Are we leeches then? We suck the life out of our friends and will
never, ever be strong enough to pay them back.

I’m in his arms before I can even ask. He carries me in a
front piggy-back. My legs tighten around his waist, sex sounding better and
better. To at least give me a rush, a high of something good to drown out the
bad.

But I know how this ends.

I will never satisfy this craving.

Very softy, I say, “We can’t have sex.” The words drive a
nail into my heart. Because it aches to be denied it, even by my own lips.
Because it’s all I feel like I need.

“I know,” Lo whispers, bringing me to an empty hallway with
globes and more paintings overhead. He sets me on a bench and kneels in front
of my spread legs.

My breath hitches, and I lean forward to kiss him, to grab a
fist-full of his shirt and pull him even closer.

Just as my fingers clench the fabric, he puts his hands on
my knees, shuts my legs tightly and rests one of his palms on my collar,
pushing my back into the wall. The rejection stings. “Lo,” I say in a breath,
his features sharp and severe and forceful.

A tear rolls down my cheek.

He’s not backing down from this. It’s like he could see this
outcome from the very moment the wedding started. It’s like he was preparing
all day for my descent.

Here it is.

I’m ashamed of myself and embarrassed. I just feel gross.

“The world is never going to understand us,” he tells me,
his eyes so impassioned that I can’t look away. “But it doesn’t matter, Lil. We
have each other, and I get your pain, I understand how badly it hurts, so I
need you to block out the other people today, okay? They don’t exist in
our
world.”

Our world.

There is no going back to a life with just Loren Hale. Even
though it’s harder to have real friends, real connections with other people,
it’s the right thing. But it’s what causes so, so much agony inside. Every day
in their presence, we stare at reflections of what we should be and know that
we can never become them.

My shoulders relax, and I whisper, “Do we have superpowers
in our world?”

“Yeah,” he says, “but you’re not invisible.”

Damn.

“What can I do then?”

“Fly,” he says, “with me.” He lifts me up quickly, onto his
back like we always do. And he races towards a door, my hair blowing behind me.
My lips rise in a weak smile.

He says, “Want to get lost with me in a palace?”

I rest my chin on his shoulder, a couple tears dripping but
they come from a fuller place in my heart. “Yes.”

It’s a good kind of
yes.
The best kind.

One filled with a thousand
I love yous
, the type of love that can make you fly.

{ 38 }

1 year : 00 months

August

LOREN HALE

Her lips swell underneath the pressure of mine,
her fingers clenching my light brown hair, yanking hard. I slam her back into
the bedroom wall.
Our
bedroom.
Our
wall.

She reaches out for stability, her fingers finding the
wooden edge of our dresser. My cock deepens in between her legs, and she lets
out a sharp, ragged breath followed by a cry of pleasure. I kiss her strongly
as I rock against her, and her body spasms with pleasure. Her hand slides,
knocking a lamp to the floor.

The crash is barely audible.

My head bursts with light, overcome with her body, her
sounds, and the emotions that we exchange through our lips. I never want to
stop kissing her like this, while I’m full inside of her, our pulses in sync
and this desperate urgency pumping our blood.

I don’t stop. The intensity smashes into me, black and white
spots dancing in my vision. Nerves that I didn’t know existed explode, and my
movements become hungrier, harder, eking out every ounce of energy she has
left.

I hold the back of her head, pushing up into her over and
over. Our lips are so close that our noses brush.

“Lo,” she cries out. She tries to grab onto the dresser
again, but her hand, slick with sweat, glides right off.

In a heavy grunt, I say, “Up.” I lift both her thighs higher
over my waist and let go to brace a hand on the wall, pinning her with my body.

Her legs limply slide right back to the floor. “I…” she
trails off, too tired for words. But her eyes are alight with cravings, wants
and desires.

I raise only one of her legs this time and hold it above my
hip. The angle slices her breath and lolls her head to the side.

I slow my thrusts, and a moan escapes her parted lips. Tears
crease the corners of her eyes. I wipe them away with my thumb as I begin the
perilous ascent, speeding up and climbing towards that high.

I turn my attention onto her small breasts, kneading one.
Her body arches towards me, and I pinch her hardened nipple. She gasps.

“Lo,” she pleads. “Pleaseplease.”

“Almost, love,” I say and then let out a long groan. Sex
with Lily Calloway just may be the most toxic, mind-altering experience of my
life.

I do it pretty much every night and every morning, and
together, we still manage to go into another dimension of pleasure. She
clenches tight around my cock, and it’s over at that. My breath staggers, and
my thrusts turn determined and even harder.

Her hands wearily grip my biceps, not even attempting to
really hold on.

I’m the only thing supporting her at this point.
 

When I finish, I carefully pull out, my hands still firm on
her waist in case she can’t stand. Her eyelids flutter in exhaustion, and I lift
her in my arms.

She struggles to fight sleep that finally weighs on her.
“Lo, I’m…” she yawns. “…really sorry.”

My muscles sear at her sincere apology. I wipe the strands
of wet hair away from her eyes. “Don’t be sorry, Lil. It’s my choice too. Only for
tonight though, okay?”

“Mmmhmm.” She can barely nod. We’ve been fucking for a
little over four hours with few breaks in between. All to wear Lily down to the
point of mental and physical exhaustion. Giving her sleeping pills would have
been easier, but her therapist was worried she’d start being dependent on them.

I doubt she would’ve approved of this alternative, but it’s
just one night of insane sex. I won’t let Lily get used to this and make it a
new routine.

I set Lily on the bed, open her legs a little, just enough
to wipe her clean with my crumpled gray shirt. Then I pull the black and white
comforter to her chin. Her eyes fight to stay open.

“Where’s my spoon?” She pats the mattress beside her.

I kiss her forehead. “I’m going to take a shower.” I trust
that she won’t masturbate while I’m gone. I had to have satiated her enough,
only sleep on her mind. I tuck the edges of the comforter around her thin body.
“I love you, Lil.”

“I love you…” Her eyes close, and she breathes out the last
word. “…too.”

I watch her fall asleep for a couple seconds before I turn
towards the bathroom, battling against the same fatigue. Before I even reach
it, someone knocks on the door. I hesitate to answer right away.

“Lo?” I hear Connor’s calm and controlled voice. “It’s just
me.”

Those last words are the only ones that reanimate my body.
Slowly, I step into a pair of drawstring pants and slip out of the door,
leaving it cracked.

Our house in Princeton is eerily quiet, mostly because Lily
has finally fallen asleep.

Connor studies me with a long once-over, as though he’s
examining a patient. I comb back my wet, sweaty hair with my hands and lean my
shoulder on the wall. “She knocked over a lamp,” I say, figuring he heard the
crash since his bedroom is on the main floor.

“You’ve been having sex for four hours.” He states it as a
fact.

“Yep,” I say. “You’ve been timing me?”

“It’s hard not to.” His eyes never waver from mine. I don’t
see judgment in them, which is why we’ve become best friends.

“Because Rose is worried about her.”

“Because I have better hearing than most people,” he says,
“and you two fuck without restraint.”

I produce a half-smile. “We all can’t be into ball gags and
handcuffs.” I have tied Lily up before though. That’s not new to me. Connor and
Rose’s sex tapes, however, go beyond anything I’ve done. I haven’t actually
watched them, nor do I ever want to, but the internet still talks.

“No, we can’t,” he says softly in agreement. “And I’ve never
been a fan of ball gags, though I appreciate their purpose.” He pauses. “Can I
talk to you in the kitchen?” His eyes flicker to the office across the hall,
the door ajar. In the shadows, an outline of a body moves behind it. Rose. Her
mere presence clenches my stomach.

For the past couple of weeks, Lily and Rose have barely
spoken more than a few words in passing, on a quiet streak. Ever since Rose and
Connor returned from their honeymoon in Bora Bora, the atmosphere has
been…tense.

I glance back at my bedroom, the door cracked, Lily still
fast asleep underneath the covers.

“I’ll save you the time,” I tell him, speeding up this
lecture. “This was a one-time thing. I’m not enabling her. I know what I’m
doing. The end. If you’d like any more information than that, then you’re going
to have to spill details about your sex life.” Not that I want
any
more
than what I’ve already received from the tabloids. But fair’s fucking
fair. I cross my arms, waiting for his reply.

“I’m not Ryke or Rose,” he reminds me. “I trust that you
won’t enable Lily and vice versa.”

Then what’s this
about?
I frown.

To convince me more, Connor says, “Just a few minutes
downstairs.”

“If you don’t mind my stench.”

“You smell lovely, darling.” He already aims for the
staircase. “Just how I dream of.”

I snort into a smile. “Alright.” I follow his lead.
 

Once we pass through the living room, the archway and into
the kitchen, Connor starts the coffee machine. I catch the time on the oven. 4
a.m. Morning for him. The dead of night for me. He still wears pajama pants, so
at least we’re on equal footing there.

I hoist myself up onto the low counter and lean back into
the cabinets. “Does this conversation happen to involve two very stubborn
Calloway girls?”

“It does.” He opens a cupboard by my head. He’s so tall that
we’re actually eyelevel. “It’s really trivial.” He retrieves a black mug. “If
they both sat down and talked, they’d realize that they’re on the same side.
But instead, your girlfriend isn’t getting any sleep and neither is my wife.”

“How do you know Lily isn’t sleeping?” My edged voice hurts my
ears at this time of night.

“You just had sex for four hours,” he says, knowing
everything before I even tell him. It’s not as annoying right now as it could
be. “And I’ve also seen Lily awake in the living room at 2 a.m. a few times.”

My lips downturn, worry coating my features. “What was she
doing?” I must have fallen asleep already, and she crawled out of bed.

“Reading Kafka,” he says. “She said that she was hoping my
reading material would bore her to sleep.”

I let out a heavy breath. When Rose and Connor left for
their honeymoon, the words “slut” and “whore” and “gross” were never thrown
around in the media. The headlines commended Rose for being monogamous, strong
and open enough to defend her right to be submissive in bed.

The polar opposite happened to Lily. She was degraded,
humiliated and dragged through the mud. Still is. Every fucking day.

She can’t sleep and forgets to eat sometimes. I’ve already
talked to her professors for next semester, setting up her courses so she can
watch the lectures online and attend the classes for exams. While my girlfriend
sinks under the weight of the world’s hypocrisy, she bears this immeasurable
guilt that no one understands.

No one but me.

Deep down, she wishes that Rose had the same outcome as her,
so at least she could feel less singled out, less repulsed by herself, less
like a spot on the world that should have been wiped clean. And she can’t
destroy those feelings or try to explain them. Because they seem completely
fucked up.

But I know what it’s like to have emotions that war within
you. To want something so cold and callous, only to feel a shred of self-worth.

I get it.

I fucking get it.

Rose is willing to give Lily time to sort through her
feelings and come to terms with what’s happened. But that means a stalemate
between them. When they walk into the same room, they withhold most
conversation and barely meet eyes.

Connor pours coffee into his mug. “I’ve tried talking to
Rose, but she believes that Lily needs to work this out on her own.” He waits
for me to add something, and I realize that he brought me down here to see
where Lily’s head was at. Maybe to gauge how long this tension will last.

“I think Lil just needs some time,” I say, not sure how
much
time. “She’s going to her therapist
every other day now.”

Connor sips coffee from his mug, and I notice his ring on
his left hand. Lily and I discussed our living situation with Rose and Connor
after their wedding, and it lasted about two minutes. They don’t feel
comfortable moving out, even though they both should be closer to Philly. Their
work is there, like Cobalt Inc.

Connor stopped pursuing his MBA so he could take over as
CEO. The only tie they have to Princeton is Lil, who’s still in college.

Since the paparazzi have increased exponentially after the
reality show and now Rose’s sex scandal, they both said: “it’s best if the four
of us still live together.” A united front—or whatever. I didn’t refute.
Because even though it’s harder with them here, I like having Connor around for
advice. And Lily needs her sister.

He rests against the center island, facing me, and he stares
at his mug with a lost look in his eyes, one I don’t see often from him.

“What is it?” I ask.

“My mother is dying,” he says out loud. “She’ll be gone
within the week. Breast cancer.”

My jaw slowly drops. I can count on my hand the number of
times he’s mentioned his mom. She stepped down from her position as CEO of
Cobalt Inc. a few days ago. Now I know why. “I’m sorry,” I say, my brows
bunched in confusion and a bit of hurt for him.

I can’t read his expression. He’s not letting anything pass
through his features for me to hold onto. All I see is a blank surface, my own
emotions ricocheting back at me.

“Don’t be,” he tells me. “She wouldn’t want your apology.”

“She sounds…”

“Cold,” he finishes.

“I was going to say like Rose, no offense.”

His deep blue eyes rise to mine. “They’re not alike.
Katarina doesn’t have the capacity to love someone other than herself. If
anything, she’s more like me.”

“
Was
…like you,” I
say. He’s finally admitted to loving Rose.

He smiles. “Love still seems like an irrational concept to
me.” He pauses. “But in believing in it, I’ve become like everyone else.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“More than okay,” he admits.

I nod, happy that he’s not such a cynic on a matter that
seems obvious to the rest of us. “Are you going to the funeral?” I scratch the
back of my neck. “I mean, when it happens…” I cringe. Everything sounds wrong.
Is there even a right way to talk about someone’s mother dying?

“She doesn’t want one.”

I open my mouth to ask why, but he cuts me off.

“She doesn’t want people from Cobalt Inc. to waste their
time mourning a corpse when they should be working. Her words.”

Ouch. I change the topic as soon as I see stress tightening
his shoulders. “How’s the lawsuit?” I ask. They’ve been trying to take Scott
Van Wright to trial for weeks, or at least come to a settlement out of court. A
whole team of lawyers gathered evidence while they were on their honeymoon.

“It’s complicated,” he tells me. “The videos are already
online. Winning the lawsuit won’t win us back our privacy. It may destroy
Scott, but it doesn’t gain me anything.” He sets his mug on the counter. “I’ve
never had to use so much energy on an outcome that has no direct benefit for me.”

I frown. “The benefit is watching that douchebag burn.”

He lets out a short laugh and rubs his lips. When he drops
his hand, he says, “Revenge isn’t a benefit, Lo. It’s self-gratification, an
emotional response with very little logic and even less reward.” He exhales and
shakes his head. I’ve never seen him this conflicted. “I’ll figure it out. I
always do.” He flashes his billion-dollar smile, reminding me in one single
second how different we truly are.