“Do you really see me as an apathetic trust fund baby?” I ask, remembering some of the insults that inadvertently flew my way. I have been lazy and uncaring towards college. I should have tried harder.
“Technically you don’t have a trust fund anymore,” Connor tells me. His words don’t lift my spirits, and I don’t deserve a brightened day. I’m at fault here. “You should have told me you were cheating when I asked.”
“I can’t pass without the old exams,” I defend quickly.
“You can,” Connor retorts. “I’ve tutored you, and I know that if you just studied, you could pass.”
“I can’t take that chance. I bombed the first two tests. I’m already behind a semester, and if I fail these classes I’m going to be behind a whole year.” I hold the tests to my chest, unwilling to let them go over Connor’s moral compass. “It’s not cheating. It’s beating the system. Everyone does it.”
“You’ve already beat the system by being at Princeton. By being at Penn. If you didn’t have your last name, you’d be at a community college. Where you should be, Lily. How many times are you going to beat the system until it beats you to death?” His words are weighted and have more double meanings than I can process. “You don’t need an A. You’re going to be fine if you graduate with a low GPA at the bottom of the class. Do yourself a favor. Toss out those tests, and I’ll help you take your finals. I’ll make sure you learn the material to pass. I promise.”
“I have to turn them in by six o’clock today,” I say. “That’s not possible, Connor.”
“They’re take-home tests,” he reminds me. “You’re allowed to use your notes and your book. Just not old exams. We can make it happen.”
“We can all help,” Daisy exclaims with a smile. “I have the recipe for the perfect study brownies.”
Ryke gives her a look.
“Not those kind of brownies.”
The undertaking feels bigger than me, but I have support. “You should go talk to Rose,” I tell him. I don’t want to draw him away from her more than I already have.
“She’ll want to be alone right now,” he says. I’m not so sure about that, but he adds, “Trust me.” And for some reason, I do. Maybe Sebastian is right. Maybe Connor does have power in his words.
An hour later, I’ve finished a political science final and moved onto Stats. A tray of warm, gooey brownies emits a sweet chocolate aroma in front of me. I’m basically eating the entire plate. Daisy flips through her motorcycle magazine, not touching a single one.
Ryke left thirty minutes ago, before the brownies were pulled out of the oven. And I suspect if he was here, he would have prodded Daisy until she at least tasted a chunk.
I should be one-hundred percent focused on my test, but Lo went upstairs not too long ago. He never said a word about his phone call or my tests. He just disappeared.
I hurry through my Stats exam, unconsciously remembering some of the answers from when I previously bubbled them in with Sebastian. I finish in the next fifteen minutes, guessing on the last two. The book was helpful, but Connor’s notes were better. He sat beside me and scribbled down examples that made the harder questions a lot easier.
I can’t stop thinking about Lo. Upstairs. He only isolates himself when he’s drinking, and since he’s sober, I’m not quite sure what alone time for Loren Hale really entails. I worry all the same.
“Can I take a five minute break?” I ask Connor by my side. “I have to go talk to Lo.”
He checks his watch, calculating how long it will take me to finish in time to turn the exams in. “You have ten minutes before I’m coming to collect you. So please don’t let me walk in on you and Lo fornicating.”
Fornicating. I smile. It’s such a fancy word for fucking. “We won’t.”
I dash upstairs to my bedroom, stopping at the door for a second. I hesitate to walk inside. Maybe he wants to be alone, like really alone. The thought stabs me cold, and I lower my hand from the knob. Is he slowly breaking away from me? Is that it?
My shoulders rise.
I won’t let him go so easily.
I open the door and brace myself for what’s to come.
Lo sits at the desk, scrolling through different websites on the computer. His back to me, I see him analyzing a business site. When I shut the door, he swivels in his chair and makes note that it’s just me before he returns to his laptop.
The casual brush-off stings.
Before our fight, he would have asked me for help. He would have gushed about all of his ideas. I’ve been his friend in everything for years, and all of a sudden, I’ve become as useful as the dust on a windowsill.
“Shouldn’t you be taking your finals?” he asks.
“I’m on a break,” I say, sinking onto the bed.
He focuses on the computer screen.
Is he growing without me? My worst fear may be starting to come true. He’s strong, committed and sober. I’m unhealthy and struggling in my addiction. My weakness is too much for him. I’m pulling him down. I’m a weight.
And I’m losing him. Just like I lost everything else.
“Lo,” I try to keep my voice steady.
He faces me this time, concern etching his brow.
I open my mouth, a pain in my heart. “Do you want to break up with me?”
“What?” he chokes.
“It’s just…we’ve never fought for so long before, and I can’t tell what you’re thinking anymore.” My insecurities gush like a busted piñata, and I desperately wish to gather all the candy and stuff it back inside.
“Lil,” he breathes, standing. He comes to me and takes my cheeks in his hands, staring down. “Don’t ever ask me that again.” His voice is soft but still sharp.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” I say, twisting his T-shirt in my hand. “I mean, I would try to stop you, but I would understand. You’re strong and I’m...” a mess.
He brushes my fallen tears with his thumb. “I had rehab,” he reminds me. “I had lots of help, Lil. Your addiction is much different, and there’s less support there. I knew I’d be strong and you’d be struggling. It’s just the way it is. I’m prepared for this. I won’t leave. I won’t ever fucking leave.”
I’m about to go in for a hug, and he withdraws. “But that doesn’t give you the right to fall into your old habits. Okay?”
“I know. I know.” I fiddle with my fingers. “Are we still fighting? I mean, I get it if you still want to be in a fight. But I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I let you down.” That’s not completely right. I think after today, especially my conversation with Connor, I know who I’m disappointing the most. “I’m sorry I let myself down.”
His lips rise just a little. “I accept that apology.”
He lifts me into a hug, and I promise myself that I’ll try harder. Even if everything starts slipping away again, I’ll remember this moment, how long it took me to right what I had done wrong. I don’t want to start that vicious cycle again. I want to break it. I want to beat my addiction for good, no matter if outside forces pull me down.
I can do it this time.
Please, let me succeed.
{ 41 }
LOREN HALE
I wish I could give Lily the clear steps to her recovery, the tips in rehab, all the people sharing their stories for hours on end—everything that I had, the things I sometimes take for granted. But recovery for sex addiction is just so subjective and personal. It’ll never be the same. All I can do is try to be here for her as best I can, especially after the leak.
I trashed all of her toys, even the vibrator that Ryke found in the bathtub. She’s nervous without them, but they’re a security blanket that I’m no longer willing to let her have.