Thrive (8 page)

“Not yet,” I whisper. “Fix your hair.”

She rapidly tries to flatten the messy strands.

The door slams closed, and as I bend down to grab my black
crew-neck, I spot leather boots and long legs in the archway between the living
room and the kitchen. My eyes travel up to her green army jacket and blonde
hair.

“Daisy,” I say hesitantly. I breathe out, just glad it’s not
Rose.

Her green eyes—swollen and reddened—dart between Lily and
me. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to…” She rotates and heads back into the living
room.
 

“Wait,” I say, rushing after Daisy with Lily by my side. I
hurriedly put on my shirt and realize that Daisy’s aimed for the door.

“What happened?” Lily asks, fear pitching her voice.

“Daisy, don’t leave,” I add, sprinting ahead and blocking
her exit. I lean my back against the door and keep a hand on the knob.

Then I scan her features. But her insanely long hair drapes
along her cheeks and brows, masking her expression. Her fingers brush beneath
her eyes—wiping tears?

My face twists. “Are you crying?”

“I’m fine,” she breathes. “I’m just going to go. I didn’t
mean to interrupt you.”

My jaw locks. She knows we had sex.

Great.

And she’s going to tell my brother—because he prods for
information, and they’re strangely friends.

Lily rests her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “What happened? I
thought you were spending the night at Cleo’s house?”

My brows furrow. “Cleo?” I try to wrack my brain for an
image of Daisy’s friend. I think she’s blonde too. That’s all I picture.

“She’s my best friend,” Daisy mutters and tucks a piece of
hair behind her ear. “I just…the party was lame. I thought I could come back here
and watch the countdown on GBA with you and then crash in the guest room.”

 
“Then that’s what
we’re going to do. You’re staying here,” Lily says adamantly, guiding Daisy
over to the couch. They sit down together. I can’t remember a time where Lily
was this protective. Maybe when I was in rehab, she grew closer to Daisy, but I
never saw this side of their relationship. Lily, being the big sister like
Rose, except without all the ice.

“We can watch
Adventures
in Babysitting.
That’s one of your favorite movies, right?” Lily offers.

Daisy smiles. “You remembered?”

Lily nods. “Yeah. You told me…” She closes one eye as she
recalls the date. I could kiss her again. “…last week, I think.”

“That sounds good.” Daisy takes off her jacket, settling in.

“Here, I’ll hang that up,” I tell her, grabbing the green
fabric.

“Thanks.” She gives me a weak smile and scoots closer to
Lily. Both girls have their feet on the couch. “So…” Daisy pauses.

 
Don’t say it. Don’t bring it up.
I liked thinking that she’d
pretend it never happened. I open the hallway closet and take out an empty
hanger.

“…I thought you weren’t supposed to have sex in the kitchen
or the living room—not that I’m judging. I just always thought it was a rule.”
I hear the curiosity in her voice. Still, I’ve never had the urge to discuss my
sex life with my girlfriend’s sixteen-year-old sister. In fact, it’s as
uncomfortable as it sounds.

“Uhhh…” Lily draws out the word. “Lo?” She peeks her head
over the couch, waiting for me to return to handle this one. Her cheeks are
tomato-red.

I hang up Daisy’s jacket, shut the closet and take a seat on
Rose’s Queen Anne chair. “It’s not a rule so much as a suggestion.” I smile a
bitter smile. Then I collect the remote, about to increase the volume to GBA’s
Ballin’ New Year’s Eve.

“Are you sure Ryke and Rose know that it’s a suggestion and
not a rule?” Daisy asks us. “I think they’d be really upset…” She licks her
dried lips. “I mean…it’s not considered relapsing, right?”

Guilt washes over Lily’s face.

I go cold.

“No,” I interject quickly.
We’re at a good fucking place. She’s confident, not compulsive. I won’t
let their fears fuck with her progress.
“Not that I really want to explain
this to you,” I add and then grimace.
Way
to be a prick, Loren
. “Lily’s therapist says that we can move things
forward, depending on how well she’s doing.”

This is completely true, but even if Rose and Ryke had a sit
down with Dr. Banning, they’d probably still believe that Lily needs more
structure and limitations. Outwardly, she seems aloof and anxious, but most of
that is because of the media.

It’s complicated.

Daisy wears a pained expression. “And you’re doing well?”
she asks her sister.

Lily nods, but she has very little evidence to prove this,
considering she hides under desks, dodges cameras, and isolates herself from
people.

“Hey, Daisy?” I rub the back of my neck, my eyes narrowed.
“Can you
never
tell my brother what
you saw tonight? In fact, let’s just keep this between us.”

Lily says, “Please. We’ve been trying not to advertise our
sex life as much.”

Daisy’s not stupid.

The gears click in her head—thinking we’re on a dangerous
road. We aren’t. Not yet, at least.

Lily clasps Daisy’s hand and then says, “Do you want ice
cream? Rose stocked up on double fudge for you.”

“I can’t…I have a photo shoot next week.”

“Oh,” Lily says, more remorse filling her eyes.

“No, it’s cool.” Daisy hugs her sister back, and just like
that, their relationship has been reversed. Daisy cheering up Lily, something
that only makes Lily feel like shit. “Let’s just watch the movie after the
countdown. Who needs ice cream, right?”

Then the door swings open again.

And both Lily and I look to Daisy. Her loyalty to us is
about to be tested.

{ 11 }

0 years : 04 months

December

LILY CALLOWAY

A six-foot-three brooding—mostly irritated—guy
bounds through the door. “I fucking hate people,” he states, barely glancing at
Lo on the chair. I have to crane my neck over the couch to catch sight of Ryke,
as does Daisy.

He saunters into the kitchen with an angry stride,
disappearing through the archway.

 
“Not that I don’t
love you here,” Lo shouts from across the room, “but you said that you were
spending New Year’s at that frat guy’s kiddie pool.”

Ryke returns from the kitchen with a bag of pre-popped
popcorn and a water bottle. “It was his hot tub, and he graduated in May, same
as me.”

Ryke must have had a not-so fun time at his friend’s party.
His stormy expression says it all. The irony: Lo and I were having a pretty
good night, all things considered. Usually we’re on the other side of the
fence.

“Can you imagine a hot tub full of frat guys?” Daisy asks
me, nudging my elbow with hers, a smile playing at her lips. It sounds like one
of my fantasies. Before Loren Hale. But then again, Ryke would not be a
participant in my fantasy hot tub.

I don’t answer her, but I do, however, catch Ryke’s muscles
flexing at the sound of Daisy’s voice, surprised by her presence here.

Ryke steps around the couch to face us, and he gives Daisy a
long once-over that seems friendly enough. “What are you doing here?”

“Lo asked you the same thing,” she deflects.

Ryke sinks down in the open chair, his harsh gaze still on
Daisy. “You want to know why I left my friend’s fucking party?”

“Yeah,” Daisy says.

“I was sick of people asking me how Lily is in bed.”

Whaaa
…My eyes pop
out. I despise those rumors. “I hope you told them I never—”

“I told them to fuck off,” Ryke says before I get worked up.
“They’re fucking assholes.”

“We’re assholes,” Lo says. “They’re dipshits.”

“Are you really schooling me on curse words, little
brother?”

Lo lets out a short laugh and grips the armrests too
tightly, like he longs to stand up and grab a drink. “No. I don’t run as fast
as you. I’m not as smart as you. And I definitely don’t curse as well as you.”
I hear what’s beneath his words:
My life
is pretty much a losing battle.
Cold washes over me. I glance at Ryke—his
arms have chill bumps. “I’m just saying,” Lo finishes, “that you’re an
asshole.”

On instinct, I leave my seat beside Daisy, and I nestle on
Lo’s lap, hugging his tense body. His shoulders begin to loosen as soon as my
legs tangle with his, and his large hands slip around my waist, pulling me even
closer to his chest.

Ryke drinks a swig of water and wipes his mouth with his
arm. “At least we have something in common then.”

Lo lets out a laugh, his scowl completely vanished. He’s
happy that Ryke didn’t convince him of things he knows are true. Lo spent his
childhood running away from people. Ryke competed in track and field. I don’t
think either of them believes that Lo will gain the strength to beat his
brother in a race.

I do though.

Lo has the will to speed right past the person who lifted
him to his feet. I think, sometimes, we have more faith in each other than we
do in ourselves.
 
 

Daisy shifts on the couch for the third or fourth time,
restless. She starts braiding the fringe of a purple throw blanket. “Are you
spending the night too?” she asks Ryke.

“If it’s okay with my brother.” Ryke turns his head towards
Lo. “I can drive back to Philly if it’s not.”

“It’s almost midnight, so you should stay,” Lo says. “We can
crack open a bottle of champagne, toast to the New Year, then switch to
whiskey.” He tops it off with that now
literally
famous dry smile.
Celebrity
Crush
even ranked his bitter half-smiles from best to worst. My favorite
was the one during Halloween (ranked only #6). I thought he’d want to stay at
home for his twenty-second birthday, especially since last year’s Halloween was
so apocalyptic, but he drove everyone to a haunted house in northern
Pennsylvania.

He was a pirate.

A
sarcastic
pirate.

A girl dressed as Pippi Longstocking took the picture of his
half-smile when he wasn’t looking and posted it to Instagram. I almost wish I
could thank her.

It’s one of my favorite photos of him—maybe also because
he’s carrying me on his back. I was a mouse. I thought it’d be ironic since
I’ve been so quiet, but Ryke thought I was a rat so…maybe it wasn’t the best
costume choice.

“That’s fucking hilarious,” Ryke says to Lo, unamused.

“Haven’t you heard? I haven’t had a sip of alcohol since
rehab,” Lo says. “
I’m cured.
” I don’t
think he even believes that.

“And Connor isn’t a genius. Lily’s not a sex addict. Daisy’s
not a supermodel. And I have fucking fantastic college buddies who ask me about
anything
other than three-ways.”

“I don’t know what world you’re living in,” Lo banters, “but
that one sounds fucking weird.”

Ryke laughs, his eyes lightening.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Lo professes, his
voice filled with sincerity.

“Just the night,” Ryke says. “I love you and Lily, but I
just can’t be around Connor for that long.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to withstand Rose for long
either, but it’s going on ten months, and she hasn’t even killed me yet.” His
arms fall to my legs, lifting me higher on his lap so our chests touch. It just
happened out of the blue.

Flirting should be full of fearless advances like this.

Somewhere in our timeline together, fear has snuck in and
invaded our peace. Hopefully that’ll change for good.

“Why
don’t you like Connor?” Daisy asks Ryke, tearing my attention away from Loren
Hale.

“He’s
just annoying.”

I
think we all know there’s more to the story.

“He’s
cool,” Lo says easily. “I’m annoying, and somehow you like me more?”

“You’re
not that fucking annoying.” He runs his hand through his hair, not explaining
why
Connor gets on his nerves so much.

“Is
that it?” Lo wonders with pinched brows.

Ryke
shakes his head. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he says,
“You let everyone see
every
part of
you, and Connor offers a very small portion of himself. I don’t like watching
you stand vulnerable in front of someone who wears more armor than you can ever
have. It’s not fair, and it’s a fucking shitty thing for Connor to do to you.”

Lo
lets his words sink in, and my stomach flips at the idea that Connor may hurt
Lo. I never even considered it. Not once.

“I
don’t mind it as much as you,” Lo tells his brother, though his forehead
creases like Ryke has planted a seed. He’s never thought of it like that
before. Neither have I.

“And
I don’t fucking understand why that is.”

“You
said that he wears armor, and I’m what—naked? I don’t think he’ll turn around
and stab me…so I’m happy with our friendship.” Lo pauses and rubs his lips in
contemplation, and he leaves it at that.

With the silence, I steal the remote from Lo and increase
the volume of the New Year’s broadcast. “We’re here in Times Square…” the host
announces cheerfully.

“Hey,” Ryke says, pelting popcorn at Daisy. A kernel hits
her square in the eyeball. He doesn’t apologize. “What are you doing at your
sister’s house?”

Daisy picks the popcorn out of her hair and crosses her
legs. “I just decided to crash here.”

“It’s more than that,” Lo says, exchanging a concerned look
with Ryke. As someone who’s been on the receiving end of their united brotherly
force, it’s very hard
not
to succumb
to their demands.

Daisy has no chance.

And while I should be all Girl Power, Team Calloway—I care
about my sister too much to blindly side with her. I just hope that she won’t
use the only ammunition she has against us. Lo and I had sex in the kitchen.
That’s definitely something she can fling at Ryke to take the heat off her
situation.

It scares me, but her wellbeing means more than sheltering
our lie.

Daisy shakes her head. “I’m okay.”

“You were crying,” Lo says.

“What?” Ryke’s dark frown casts a shadow over the room.

“It was just prep school people being rude, not my close
friends,” Daisy says vaguely. “The crying part was an accident…sorry.”

Ryke’s face contorts in confusion and agitation. He throws a
handful of popcorn at her. I stretch across Lo to reach his brother’s chair and
snatch the bag from his hands. He barely even notices that I’ve taken his
snack.

“Are you seriously fucking apologizing for
crying?
” he growls.

“I guess so.”

Ryke shakes his head repeatedly while I munch on the popcorn
and stare between them, my head whipping from side to side.

Lo digs his hand in the bag to eat some too.

“
Don’t
,” Ryke
says.

“You didn’t cry about
your
friends,” Daisy states.

“I stormed in here cursing. You’re allowed to show some
human emotion, Dais. I did.”

Daisy shifts again like she can’t get comfortable. She
smashes a pillow on her lap, and I hold my breath, expecting her to distract
Ryke right about now with our issues. She says, “Is it okay if we don’t talk
about it?”

I exhale.

Ryke’s muscles constrict. He clearly doesn’t want to drop
it. Daisy kicks off her boots, a little more fidgety than I’ve last seen her.
She eyes the
door.
I imagine my
fearless sister speeding down the dark roads on her motorcycle.

Death comes next.

“Daisy,” I say in warning.

“You’re not leaving,” Lo tells her.

I nod in agreement. “We all want you here.”

“I saw ice cream in the fridge,” Ryke says as he stands. “I
can make you a bowl.”

“I have a photo shoot—”

“Run with me tomorrow morning.”

Okaaayy
…that
sounded more like a proposition for a date, but everything about Ryke is kind
of sexual. The way he stands, the way he moves. I bet he thinks about sex just
as often as me too.

“Sounds like a date,” Daisy says exactly what I was
thinking. I can’t tell if she’s hoping it is.
She’s sixteen. He’s twenty-three.
She can have a crush on him, but
it can’t progress further than that.

I rest my palms on Lo’s chest, his muscles hard as a rock,
too rigid right now.

Ryke tenses. “It’s not, Calloway. I run with Lo all the
time, and we’re just brothers.”

“So I’m like your sister then?” she asks.

Good question,
I
think, shoveling more popcorn in my mouth.

His face darkens. “No.”

“Then what am I?”

“My fucking friend.” His eyebrows rise. “Any more
questions?”

She smiles weakly. “That’s it.”

“I’m going to get you a bowl of ice cream,” he says. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip and he rounds the corner. When he
disappears, both Lo and I glance back at Daisy who has moved on to twisting the
button in the pillow.

“Thanks,” Lo whispers to her, “for not ratting us out.”

“Even though you ratted me out,” she finishes. She’s too
smart for us.

His eyes narrow. “That’s different.”

“I hope it is,” she whispers back.

“It is,” he says adamantly. “You’re doing the right thing.”

She nods, and then Ryke returns with a bowl of double fudge
ice cream. He places it in her hands and then brushes the popcorn off the
cushion before sitting next to her.

Lo kisses my cheek, tearing my gaze off them and onto him. I
like this view better.

I smile. “Do you think Rose is swiping her V-card tonight?”

“Most definitely.”

We all stay quiet as we watch a few bands perform in Times
Square. I rest my head on Lo’s shoulder, and thirty minutes must past before
noises escalate…from outside.

“He was
not
flirting
with me. Your definition is wrong.”

That is one-hundred percent Rose’s fierce voice.

“What the hell?” Lo says. He finds the remote on my lap and
mutes the television.

On cue, the door breezes open.

Dressed in an expensive tux, Connor holds open the door
while Rose stomps ahead in five-inch winter booties, a black cocktail dress,
and white fur coat. “To flirt,” Connor recites, “to behave in a way that shows
sexual attraction. You can take my definition or we can consult
Merriam-Webster, though mine is more accurate.”

I whisper under my breath to Lo, “I think Rose is still a
virgin.”

“Good call.”

“I’m
so good
at
picking up signs,” Rose retorts, still in a verbal battle with Connor. “I know
when someone is flirting with me, Richard.”

He shuts the door, hardly upset by whatever happened. He
wears only amusement in his deep blue eyes the longer Rose huffs and puffs like
a wolf ready to blow down a pig’s house. And then he speaks in fluent French,
so effortlessly that the words sound like golden honey off his tongue.

She replies back in angry French.

It sounds violent.

They face each other like they’re dueling. “All they need
are some wands,” I whisper to Lo.

“I’ll never understand Ravenclaws,” he tells me. Connor and
Rose would belong to the smartest house in the wizarding world. No question.
Before the sorting hat even touched their heads, it’d scream
Ravenclaw!

“Luna Lovegood is pretty cool, and she’s from Ravenclaw,” I
say as Rose arches her back and steps nearer.

Connor laughs at something she said in French, his
million-dollar grin too bright to contain.

Lo says, “Only because Luna Lovegood likes the other houses
just as much as her own.”