I unscrew my water bottle, and two girls approach us, one brunette, the other blonde. Both wear cross-country shirts. I’m surrounded by athletes right now—Ryke being one of them.
“Hey, Ryke,” the blonde says. “Who’s your friend?” She looks me over from head to toe.
I try to wear disinterest, drinking my water, shuffling through my gym bag, anything.
“My brother,” Ryke says so easily. I can barely admit that he’s half of my brother to Lily. Saying that we’re related is so easy for him. But I have to remind myself that he knew about me for years. He just never voiced the truth until three months ago.
“Oh yeah, I see the resemblance,” she says, her blue eyes flickering between us.
“Yeah, we both have brown hair,” I say. “Shocking, isn’t it? She could even be our sister for all I know.” I gesture to the brunette hanging by the blonde’s side. My tone is not even close to friendly. And I can’t help it. This is how I normally say hi to people. My manners died somewhere around my eleventh birthday.
The blonde lets out a small laugh, trying to blow over my rudeness.
Ryke sets a hand on my shoulder, and he whispers, “Do me a favor and don’t talk.”
If he wants to hook up with one of them, by all means. Have at them. I’m not going to be his wingman on this one. I have a girl waiting for me at home. I check my watch. Yeah, she should be back from class right about now. I’d rather be there than here. I’d rather be holding her in my arms, even if I have to tell her no by the end of it.
She’s the only good thing in my life.
“This is Laura,” the blonde says, bringing her friend towards Ryke. “She’s a freshman. I thought I’d introduce her to the captain of the track team.”
Ryke checks her out with a slow once-over. The girl is almost as thin as Lily, but muscles pad her legs and arms—they’re just lean like most runners. “How have you liked Penn so far?” Ryke asks.
The girl shrugs, shifting her weight off one leg and to another. “Oh…you know.”
Ryke does that to women, I’ve noticed. He either stupefies them with his dominance or they start spitting out lame lines that make no sense.
I’ve yet to really see a girl that can keep up with him.
“That good, huh?” Ryke says, trying to be nice, but this only causes her face to redden.
“It’s been good.” Laura nods.
This is just awkward and slightly painful. I can’t watch the girl be debilitated by embarrassment and nerves anymore. Ryke is slowly peeling off a Band-Aid. I’m going to rip the damn thing for her.
“Hey, Laura,” I say. “You and your friend are on the cross-country team, right?”
Laura nods again.
“I’m Maggie,” the blonde says, perking now that I’ve shown a tad bit of interest.
“Oh great,” I say. “So you and Laura will have no problem running that way.” I point to the other side of the track.
Maggie’s face falls.
I flash a smile. “Bye.”
“Asshole,” she curses. “Come on, Laura.” She grabs her hand and shoots Ryke a look, guilty by association. When they disappear, Ryke turns to me with a glare.
“Sorry,” I tell him dryly. “I couldn’t remember how long you told me to keep my mouth shut. It snapped back open, couldn’t stop it.”
Ryke throws his sweaty towel at my face.
I grab it and fling it back. “Hey, that brunette was two seconds from fainting. I did both of you a favor.”
Ryke shakes his head. “You did yourself a favor. Don’t pretend that insulting them was for me. I know your motives by now.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“Isolate as many people as you can. Drive everyone away.” He zips his gym bag. “Not going to happen with me, not even if you run off every girl I come into contact with.”
I touch my chest. “You would abstain from sex just to be my brother? Wow. That’s generous, Ryke.” My dry humor barely darkens his eyes. I’m looking for a different reaction, one that comes with a fist to the face, but Ryke never goes there, even if he wants to.
“I’m your older brother no matter what,” he refutes. “Get that through your fucking head and maybe I wouldn’t have to repeat it all the damn time.”
“Can you say that again? I couldn’t hear you,” I quip.
He rolls his eyes, and then we both actually share a smile.
I check my watch subconsciously.
“She’s fine,” Ryke assures me.
“Look, you can pretend to know everything about me, but you can’t understand Lily the way I do.” I’ve watched her cry and shake in a bathroom because she craved sex—because she couldn’t have it. And she wouldn’t turn to me for help back then. Now that we’re together, I should have the power to take her pain away. But I don’t. Because she’s trying to control these impulses. And so I’m back where I started, watching her shake, watching her eyes grow big and wide, pleading for something more. And I have to deny her that pleasure. Over and over.
“You forget that I was here while you were in rehab,” Ryke says. “I’ve seen her at a low.”
No, I never forget that. “Great.”
“You’d rather be there with her, I know that. But didn’t Rose tell you—”
“I get it,” I snap. Our relationship needs room to breathe—Rose so very pointedly put it the other day. I’m trying to give Lily more space. I’m making a conscious effort to change our codependent relationship.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck.
But I have nowhere else to be but right here. No other invitations from friends (I have none) or family (my father practically disowned me). No job. No school. I am a worthless piece of shit. I grimace and turn that into a half-smile, shaking my head. I chug half of my water to drown these stupid thoughts.
“Have you started taking Antabuse yet?” Ryke asks.
The doctors at rehab prescribed me a drug for my recovery, and I forgot I told Ryke about it. If I drink on the meds, I’ll have stomach pains and severe nausea. It’s supposed to deter alcoholics from falling off the wagon. And even though I decided not to attend AA meetings, I still need to follow the right steps to get healthy.
I didn’t tell Lily why I’m not going to AA. The reason will make her think I’m even more fucked up. I’m a hard person to be around, and when I was in rehab, I pushed two recovering addicts to drink and break their short sobriety.
I always say the wrong things.
And the facility administration forbade me from going to group meetings because I was “adversely affecting my peers.” They also highly advised I not attend AA meetings in fear that I would be the same asshole there.
Ryke agreed with them.
So here I am.
“I haven’t taken it yet,” I tell Ryke. “I think I’m going to start tomorrow.” I’ve heard horror stories about people becoming violently ill just from a sip of beer. I wanted to have a couple days without that suffocating fear before I started.
“You should take it now. Do you have it on you?” Ryke asks. He’s such a fucking pusher.
“No,” I snap. He doesn’t listen to me, already unzipping my bag and rummaging through it. “What is this, TSA? Leave my shit alone, Ryke.” He finds the inside zipper easily and holds up an orange bottle. His eyebrows rise accusingly.
My teeth ache as I bite down. “Wow, you found my pill bottle. Congratulations. Now put it back.”
I wait for him to yell at me for lying. I prepare for the verbal onslaught with narrowed eyes, ready to combat or storm away.