Текст книги "Kiss the Sky"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

We try to ignore Julian’s silent rage, and a few minutes later, we’re on our electronic tablets, scrolling through gossip blogs for Princesses of Philly and trying to find the funniest comments.

Lily squirms on Loren’s lap, having trouble controlling her urges while she’s naked underneath the flannel. Loren tightens his arms around her waist and she stops moving.

Connor’s hand descends down my thigh of my long black cotton dress. The fabric is thin, and I can feel his fingers near a spot that truly begs for him. My lips touch his shoulder, and my eyes flit up to meet his, full of intense desire.

His expression matches mine, and I feel the wetness soak my panties.

He says under his breath, “I’m going to fuck you hard, Rose.” He strokes my head and leans me to his chest. “So hard that you’re not going to be able to walk in the morning.” Why does that sound so good?

I touch his microphone battery pack for a second, realizing that the cameras caught that. But they probably won’t air it anyway. It’s too dirty for network television.

I glance back to the group and notice that Daisy has passed out, her head resting on Ryke’s lap. Julian watches her, but he makes no move to grab her from Ryke yet. I want her to stay with Lo’s brother. I trust Daisy’s judgment, even drunk, and she just chose him.

Connor flips open his tablet, and he scrolls through long lists. I read from his screen as he holds it up to us. The words keep blurring together the longer the alcohol sets in.

“Here’s one,” Loren says. “Ryke Meadows is the biggest jackass.”

“How is that funny?” Ryke asks with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, I thought we were just reading comments.” Loren grins while Ryke rolls his eyes.

“I’ve got one!” Lily clasps her hands together. “Connor is a prick, but I’d bone him.” Lily’s eyes widen at the camera. “Just so we’re clear, I was reading a comment!”

Connor smiles beside me. Whoever that girl is, she can’t have him. He’s all mine. Or maybe I’m his.

We own each other, I think.

I look down at Connor’s screen, and the words don’t make sense to me. That never happens. “What does this mean?” I ask Connor, almost rolling my eyes when I utter the phrase. I can already feel his ego inflate. “Lo and Lily are so my OTP forever.”

Lily lets out a delighted squeal, her hands shooting to her mouth. She bounces giddily on Loren’s lap, and he holds the blanket around her body to keep her covered. “Are you serious?” she asks excitedly. “They called us OTP? Lo, did you hear that?”

“I heard, love,” he says with a smile. “But I didn’t need anyone to say it for me to believe it.”

Her entire face glows at his words.

I’m still stuck on OTP. I turn to Connor and he shakes his head like don’t look at me for this.

“What does OTP stand for?” I ask my sister.

“One True Pairing. Like couples that fans think are meant for each other,” Lily says quickly. “It’s used for fandoms. I guess, since we’re on a reality show, now we qualify.” Weird. But she would know that information, seeing as how they’re both into comic books and general pop culture things.

“Neither of you knew that?” Loren asks with a grin.

“It’s slang,” Connor says like that explains it all. It doesn’t matter. The fact that my sister and her boyfriend stumped us, the smartest people in the room, literally makes them beam in pure glee.

“Okay, what about this: I ship Ryke and Daisy so hard it hurts. What the hell does that mean?” I end up slurring the end of the sentence. Oh my God. Get your shit together, Rose. He’s going to fuck you so hard. He can’t fuck you if you’re passed out! I swallow, but my throat feels like cotton and clouds…which is one of the stupidest thoughts I’ve ever produced. I really am drunk. Dear God.

Connor runs his fingers across my arm, so light that I shiver. He tucks me closer to him. Please don’t pass out, Rose.

Lo groans as Connor rereads what I said aloud, only more coherent than me.

“What?” Ryke frowns.

Lily is all too excited to explain. “Ship is like relationship. When you ship someone you want them to hook up. Like I ship Magneto and Mystique in X-Men: First Class.”

“But they’re not canon yet,” Lo interjects, adding another term that makes little sense to me.

Lily clarifies, “They’re not really together. We just want them to be, but once it happens, they’re canon. I’m still holding out hope.”

Connor looks between Lo and Lily. “So let me get this straight. People are rooting for Ryke and Daisy to be together, but they’re not canon because it’s never happened.”

Lily claps and smiles brightly. “I’m a great tutor.”

Connor laughs.

“And it will never happen,” Lo adds, nodding to his brother to make sure he understands. I think Lo just fears abandonment again. That if Ryke dates Daisy in the faraway future, he’ll lose his brother and that sense of family. It’s not true, but you know, people believe what’s in their heart. You can’t change that so easily.

Julian stays quiet, digesting all of this information even though we’re talking like he’s no longer her boyfriend or even in the room. As far as I’m concerned, she just broke up with him tonight. I’m beginning to think Daisy stays with these losers because she doesn’t have the heart to reject them.

“Hey,” Ryke says, purposefully locking eyes with Julian. “I have fucking fans.” He raises his glass of water, and it’s hard to overlook my sister’s head in his lap.

Julian stands and nears him. “I’m going to take her to bed.”

I open my mouth to refute, my eyes narrowing, despite the booze softening me. But Ryke (sober) is way faster.

“She’s not fucking sleeping with you. Sorry, man.”

“Okay, just hand her over, dude. This shit is getting old.”

“Is it not processing in your fucking head?” Ryke asks with one of the worst glares I’ve seen him use. “You’re not fucking taking her. You’re not sleeping with her. She’s staying here.”

“With you, right? That’s not happening. I don’t fucking trust you with her.”

Lily perks up on Lo’s lap. “She can sleep in my bed, and Lo can go in Ryke’s room. Right, Lo?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah, sure.” But he looks worried about leaving Lily alone. Not only for her own safety against Scott, but she’ll also be tasked to protect Daisy from her boyfriend. What if Julian crawls into their bed? We don’t know him that well.

“I’ll sleep with them too,” I announce, knowing that I drank too much to do anything with Connor anyway. But I do regret the words, even as I say them.

If Connor’s disappointed, he masks it perfectly, his face entirely unreadable.

“Great,” Julian says, “I’ll go put Daisy in her sister’s bed.”

Ryke stands with Daisy cradled in his arms, her legs dangling lifelessly. He readjusts her so she’s turned towards his chest, looking more passed out and less dead.

Julian waits for Ryke to hand her to him.

“Over my dead fucking body,” Ryke growls.

Before they have a tug-of-war with my sister, Loren steps in and pries Daisy from Ryke. “I’m taking her to bed.”

Lily wraps the blanket tight around her naked frame and follows Loren out of the living room.

Julian puffs his chest out like he could push Ryke and pummel him. But Ryke pretty much has a look like “I’m going to rip your head off and chuck it in the snow.” I’d say Ryke would win based on expressions. That is, if I had to bet on this stupid fight at all.

I really just want to be alone with Connor, even if I already committed to sleeping with my sisters. I can creep in their room later, right? Drunk me says hell yes. Sober Rose would say where did your loyalty go, bitch?

Drunk Rose is so powerful right now.

Connor stands, my armrest gone. I almost fall into the cushion, but I catch myself with an unsteady hand.

“We should all go to bed. It’s late,” he says. He turns to me and easily grabs my hand, lifting me to my feet and supporting me with an arm to the waist.

Scott speaks to Brett, words that I can’t catch, and then they head over to Savannah and Ben in the kitchen to review old footage.

“Yeah, whatever,” Julian says. He shoots Ryke one last threatening look before backing up and climbing the stairs to the loft bedrooms.

When we hear the door close, Ryke’s shoulders slacken. He shakes his head repeatedly and runs his hand through his hair.

“What’d Daisy say to you?” Connor asks. I didn’t realize this was an important piece of information. Okay, I am not drinking anymore for the rest of the trip.

Ryke stares at the ground, his features darkening. “She said, don’t let him touch me.”

My face clouds with worry. She really thought he could have taken advantage of her while she was passed out? “I don’t like him,” I say with the shake of my head.

“Join the fucking club.”

Connor sets a hand on the small of my back. “Let’s just be civil with him for the rest of the trip. Daisy has to work with Julian, so obviously she’s treading some muddy waters here.”

“I don’t see anything fucking muddy about it,” Ryke retorts. “She doesn’t like him. So she needs to dump him.”

“Not everything is black and white, Ryke,” Connor says. “You should understand that, considering your situation with Daisy.”

Ryke scowls. “There’s no situation.”

Connor tilts his head. “Act stupid in front of your brother, but that tactic won’t ever work with me.”

“You like her,” I add, saying each word slowly so I don’t slur them together. “It’s okay to like her.” Hell, I like any guy that makes my sister happy and treats her well. Julian does neither.

Ryke glares at both of us. “It’s not fucking okay. I’m not into her like that. I can’t be. She’s seventeen.”

“What about when she’s eighteen?” Connor asks with an arched brow.

Ryke shakes his head adamantly. “You think I’m going to sacrifice my relationship with my brother for a girl? Then you don’t fucking know me, Cobalt.”

“Lo will get over it.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening. And maybe you’re fucking right—all of this shit is confusing.” His nose flares as he breathes out. “I’ll try not to hit her boyfriend, okay? Only because they work together.” Ryke doesn’t give us the chance to respond. He disappears upstairs, shutting the door to his room.

I spin back to Connor and place my hands on his hard chest. “Maybe…” I say, trailing off. “I can go sneak into Lily’s room later?”

His eyes roam my body, and he brushes my hair off my shoulder. Instead of answering, he leaves my side and walks confidently to the refrigerator.

At the kitchen table, Scott looks up from the camera equipment and stares between us. But I’m so entranced with Connor, the way he commands the room at six-foot-four, his self-assuredness so unquantifiable and so, so attractive.

I unconsciously sway, waiting for him to return to me in the living room. He procures a carton of strawberries and kicks the refrigerator closed on his way back. He bites into the fruit, staining his lips red for a single second before he licks off the strawberry juice.

As he nears me, he twirls my body towards our bedroom on the main level. And then he presses his chest to my back, guiding me with a firm hand to my hip. Wild thoughts jumble in my head, spinning madly with the help of the vodka shots. What is he going to do to me?

Once in our room, decorated with bear cabin décor, he closes the door behind him and sets me on the edge of the bed, a red and brown quilt underneath me.

“Are we going to have sex?” I ask him, my neck straightening in alarm as I process those words. Am I about to lose my virginity?

“No, Rose. You’re drunk,” he reminds me. “You’re going to remember our first time together for the rest of your life. And alcohol isn’t going to take that away from you or me.”

I glare, my shoulders curving backwards in defense. “So you’re just going to put me to bed then?” I’m clearly horny.

He pops open the carton again and eats another strawberry, not saying anything one way or the other. His domineering posture causes me to slowly sink back, my elbows propping my body on the mattress. His penetrative gaze rakes me from head to toe, traveling across all the places that crave his powerful touch.

Images of him on me, in me, breeze through my brain in a wonderful, toxic mess. And I swallow hard as I realize what I want. “Can you be rough with me?” Without the alcohol, I’m not sure I would have had the balls to ask, despite gaining more courage in bed these past couple of months.

He places the strawberries on the mattress, moving casually, easily, contentedly. The uncertainness of what he’s going to do quickens my heart, and then his eyes meet mine, his one forceful look saying everything, I’m going to give you that and more.

He lifts me and throws me further onto the bed, the air rushing out of my lungs. He climbs on before I can orient myself, and he spins me so my stomach is flat against the mattress. “We’re going to play a game…” He digs his pelvis into my ass before he strips me crudely with two hands, tossing my dress aside. The cold nips my bare skin, and he snaps my bra off but leaves my blue cotton panties on.

“What game?” I ask breathlessly.

I turn my head a little and watch him unbutton his shirt and shrug off the fabric. He unbuckles his belt, and the spot between my legs aches for him. I stifle a moan and try to sit, but he puts a hand on my back, forcing my breasts to the quilt.

The only way I can watch him is by pressing my cheek to the mattress. He allows me this at least. He takes off his slacks, only in his navy boxer-briefs. He’s incredibly hard, and as he lowers his underwear, his cock springs out, ready to enter me.

But he’s already made it clear that’s not what he plans to do tonight.

I can’t stop staring at the size of him. “I know you’re going to be able to fit,” I say. “I’m not an idiot, but when you do, I think it’s going to hurt…a lot.”

“Most likely,” he tells me, not denying it. He kneels on the bed and leans me on my side, my bottom facing him. He gathers my wrists and ties them behind my back with his belt.

My lips part as soon as the leather digs into my skin, the buckle cold against my wrist. I close my eyes as the sensations ripple through my middle and settle in tortured places.

His lips find my ear. “Are you scared of being sore?”

I shake my head once. I could beg for that force right now, but the words are lost inside my tangled mind.

He yanks my panties up, hard, the fabric digging into my heat.

“Connor,” I gasp, my arms tugging against his belt restraint.

He groans, and lets out a deep, husky breath. “I can’t wait to fit inside of you.” He kisses the small of my back and exposes my ass without taking off my panties, his lips sucking on my tender cheek. “Hard. Rough. Wet, volatile sex, with no letting up.”

“Who will concede first, you or me?” I ask him.

He bites my ass, and I press my forehead to the mattress. Ahh. A sharp breath catches, and I let out a high-pitched cry.

“We’ll come together,” he tells me. “Always.” Then he opens the fruit carton. With my cheek back on the quilt and in his mercy, he has control of what I see. All of a sudden, the flesh of a strawberry is against my lips.

“Open wide. Don’t eat it. Treat the fruit like my cock,” he says. “You bite down too hard, and you’re going to be spanked hard. Understand?”

“I’m not an idiot,” I remind him.

“You’re drunk, darling. I’m just making sure you’re coherent. Otherwise, this ends.”

“No, I’m here,” I say forcefully. “You’re not leaving me.”

He leans forward and kisses me roughly, hungrily on the lips, his tongue nearly choking me with the pressure. I clench my legs as I throb for more of this and him. He peels away abruptly and says, “I give the fucking orders.” And then he spanks me.

Hard.

I grit my teeth, my face heated, but the spot between my legs reacts much differently. I ache for him to slap me there. God yes. My insecurities about him leaving, not loving me completely, become shelved in the back of my head. And I concentrate only on how this feels. I leave my mind behind, something that I can only do when I am riding a boozy wave.

He slides the strawberry in my mouth, the green end sticking from my lips, and I rest the fruit on my tongue, careful to not dig my teeth into it.

Connor massages my ass with his large hand. I hear his heavy breaths behind me as he strokes his cock at the same time. I’d like to watch, but I have no say in that. So I’m left to imagine what he looks like as his cock swells, as his lips part in heady pleasure and his head tilts back. I’ve seen that adrenaline-fueled “I am close to passing out” look before. I’ve seen his muscular ass tighten as he jerks forward. And there’s nothing more I want to see than all of that while he’s so deep inside of me.

His fingers dip into the wet, dying spot, nudging my panties to the side.

And I spasm at the sudden touch. I taste the sweet strawberry before I realize I’ve bitten it clean in half. I chew and swallow. Maybe he won’t notice. Yeah fucking right, Rose. His IQ is higher than yours by one percent.

His hand whips my ass, and I gasp, then wince, and glare. “That fucking…hurt,” I retort slowly. But as soon as I say it, his fingers return to the needy spot, and he rubs my clit. Ohhh…I melt instantly, and I think I whimper into the mattress. I don’t know what else to call that foreign sound.

“You’re too drunk to have my cock in your mouth,” he says.

I scoff at that declaration, but the aftertaste of sweet strawberry says he’s right and I’m very much wrong. But even drunk, I can’t surrender so easily. “I am not.”

He suddenly sits me up by pulling at my tied wrists, but my spine still faces him. I feel him shift on his knees, the bed rocking with his weight, and his hard cock poking at my back. “Connor,” I moan, close to begging.

“How do you feel?” he asks. “Besides dizzy from the alcohol.” He clenches a chunk of my hair and pulls so my chin juts upward and I can see his eyes as he stares down.

“I feel…” I blink a couple times as I try to form the words. I lick my lips and say, “Like I want you to do anything to me.” Just uttering the words shallows my breath.

He stares at me with a hard, possessive gaze, and his arm extends over my shoulder, and his fingers fit back inside me again. But he doesn’t move.

“Elaborate.”

“I…need you…to move.”

He takes out his hand quickly, and he forces me on my knees. The blood rushes to my head, and he spanks me again, the sting more numbed by the booze than before. He must notice because I don’t whimper or moan or flinch forward.

He sighs in frustration and starts untying my wrists.

“Wait, no,” I say. “Stop.”

“Just months ago, you were telling me to stop from touching you. Now you want me to keep on doing so, and I’m still not going to comply with your order, Rose.” He tosses the belt aside and turns me onto my back, my head relaxing into a pillow. “You know why?” he asks, his hands on either side of my shoulders as he hovers over me.

“Because you’re an asshole,” I snap.

He pinches my cheeks with one hand. “Because you’re wrong. I won’t fuck your mouth, your pussy or your ass when you’re drunk. I’ll fuck you when you’re sober.” He kisses me roughly on the lips before saying once more, “Elaborate.”

On what I feel.

I stare into his deep blue eyes. Lost in the power inside them. And I take his hand for a second, and I fit it between my legs, his gaze never breaking from mine. “This is yours,” I tell him. “That’s what I feel.”

I’ve never wanted a man to toss me around how they want, how they like, using me to their desires so much before. And in this moment, I realize it doesn’t matter what I believe outside the bedroom. In life I can be powerful, but here, I can trust him to fill me with his power, his strength. That has to be okay. Because beyond all thoughts, all logic, it’s what makes me feel so fucking good.

His lips rise. “Ca vous a pris pas mal de temps.” It took you long enough.

“How long do we have left?” I ask him softly, his body beginning to blur.

He strokes my hair. “Pour toujours.” Forever.

I smile as everything fades to black.

[ 27 ]
CONNOR COBALT

I dry my wet hair with a towel and button my pants, watching Rose sleep peacefully, tucked in a red and brown quilt. Before I put a shirt on, she stirs with a low groan and squints in the darkness. The only light comes from a sliver in the bear-printed curtains.

“Good morning, darling.” I sit on the edge of the bed and grab the water off the nightstand. “Comment te sens-tu ?” How do you feel?

She slowly rises against the headboard, a hand to her temple. Her hair sticks up in five different places. I try hard to conceal my smile, but seeing Rose this disheveled happens—almost never. And I adore this side of her just as much as any other.

“I have no idea what you just said,” she yawns with a hand to her mouth. “My hangover has destroyed your French.”

“Impossible,” I tell her. “Your hangover can’t defeat me.”

She’s too tired and hung over to banter. She just yawns again. “Really…what did you say?”

I pass her the water and she takes a small sip.

“How do you feel?” I repeat.

“Like I spent five weeks prepping for the Academic Bowl Championships.”

“So not that bad then?” I smile.

Her eyes narrow. “Not all of us were able to study for two hours and retain every single piece of information.”

“I studied more than two hours for the collegiate championships.” I reach over and grab the Advil on the nightstand and pop the cap. “You just weren’t at Penn to see me, which was a shame. We could have studied together.” I pause before I add, “I’m an excellent tutor. Just ask your sister.”

She rolls her eyes but there’s a smile behind them. Because if I didn’t tutor Lily in economics, she believes we wouldn’t be here today. But I make my own fate. We came together because we both wanted to be here more than anywhere else. We both had choices, and we both said yes to this, to us.

That’s not fate.

It’s just desire.

And determination. Ambition. Resolve.

We have it all.

“How much do you remember from last night?” I ask, expecting the answer to be something I hate. I’m almost certain everything with the strawberries and beyond has been swept from her mind by vodka. I’ve already come to terms with it, but before I drifted off to sleep, all I wanted was for those moments to be recorded and ingrained for life. What if they never happen again?

It’s the what if that clenches my heart in five different ways.

“How much can you remember?” she shoots back, drinking more water. I almost have her hostile nature back completely.

“All of it.”

“And how is that possible? You drank more than me.”

“You remember that?” I frown.

“Yes, Richard.”

After a long pause, I say, “I have a high tolerance.” It’s not entirely true. I’ve been on Adderall for a while now. Ever since I returned to Frederick’s office, I went on a one week silent-streak until he prescribed me Adderall again. He caved on the seventh day, wanting to discuss my life so he could analyze all the details.

Mixing Adderall and alcohol is not a good or smart combination. The pills diluted the effects of the alcohol, so I was coherent for longer.

She stares off for a second. “I also remember…” She blushes. “No wonder my ass hurts.”

My chest swells. “What?”

“You spanked me.” She slaps my arm. “…and I liked it.” She adds, “I’ll be sober next time. I promise.”

I break into a smile that turns into a laugh. She remembers. I exhale deeply, my world brightening. I can’t contain the joy that fills me. I kiss her cheek, her lips. She remembers. The words lift me to a new plane of existence. I feel higher now than I did swallowing Adderall.

“What happened after you said forever?” she asks as I kiss her nose.

“You passed out,” I say, “and I tucked you in this bed and made sure you didn’t vomit on yourself.”

She glares. “How romantic.”

“How real,” I retort. “Just remember our romance isn’t the fake kind.”

“Unless you’re watching Princesses of Philly,” she notes with the raise of her chin. Before I can reply back, her eyes slowly widen.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Wait…” She grabs my wrist and her mouth falls as she recalls something.

“Rose?” My heart lurches. She shoots to her feet, and I follow suit, grabbing her waist.

“My sisters,” she says. “I promised to sleep in their room. But I’m here. I woke up here. Which means…” She bolts out the door, wearing the same black cotton dress from last night.

I walk after her with ten times less alarm. As soon as we pass the kitchen to go upstairs, Ben hurriedly stands from the breakfast table, deserting his cereal. He grabs his camera and rushes after us. Of the cast, we must be the first ones awake.

Scrawny Ben fumbles with his Canon, and he tries to bypass me on the staircase and film Rose, but I keep an arm out so he has to stay behind. I’m going to be the closest to her in this situation. He can take a backseat.

She swings open the door to Lily’s room, stampeding inside. I lean on the door frame, and Ben stays in the hallway, his camera pointed at me since he can’t film inside the room. He’s nice enough to keep his distance.

Rose comes screeching to a halt at the sight of her sisters. Daisy is sprawled on the bed, the comforters kicked all around her. Lily is on the other side, lost within a mound of blankets. Untouched. Unharmed.

Two guys sleep on the floor.

Ryke wakes at Rose’s thunderous entrance. He lifts his head off the pillow and kicks off a quilt. Lo holds his knees and rubs his eyes, trying to get oriented to the light from the hallway.

“What the fuck?” Ryke whispers, trying not to wake the girls. He glares at me. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

 I give him a look. “And she would have believed me?” Even if I said, Lo and Ryke decided to camp out in Lily’s room to keep your sisters safe, there’s a hundred percent chance she would have barged in here regardless. Plus, I was reveling in the fact that she remembered last night’s events.

Ryke glances over his shoulder, checking on his brother who watches Lily yawn and stretch her arms. When Ryke stands and heads over to the door, Lily slides out of bed, wrapped in a blanket.

She finds Lo on the floor and beams at his appearance. She bites her lip and then impulsively straddles Lo, his back leaned against the wall. She kisses his cheek and they talk softly, but she digs into him as she leans forward. I’m not even sure she realizes she’s doing it, but Lo’s neck tenses as he holds in a groan.

And Rose—she’s watching them with pursed lips.

She’s going to cock-block him for about ten minutes. It’s one of her favorite hobbies. I’d stop her, but her cold, bitchy attitude amuses me far more than people ever understand.

I nod to Ryke. “I’m surprised you slept on the floor. You’re usually a walking billboard for REI. No hammock in your suitcase?”

I smile and wait for the perfunctory fuck you. But it doesn’t come. He catches me off guard by stopping in the doorway, his face shadowed with worry and anger. I see it in the hard cut of his jaw.

“I need to talk to you,” he says under his breath. Daisy shifts on the bed, waking with all the chatter. He quickly hands me his phone, a text conversation popped on the screen.

I scroll through it.

I’m going to come inside of her wet pussy before I hand her off to you. I may even get a few friends to join. – 212-555-9877

I try not to jump to conclusions, but my heart begins to speed, the Adderall not helping slow it down.

Who the fuck is this? – Ryke

Julian – 212-555-9877

The conversation ends there. My eyes flicker up to him. “Did you punch him last night?” I whisper so only he can hear.

“No.”

“I can’t imagine you reading this…” I check the timestamp. “…at four in the morning and doing nothing.” I picture Ryke slamming doors, darting to Julian’s bedroom and beating the shit out of him. But I forget that Ryke isn’t a testosterone-fueled idiot. He’s intelligent in ways that most aren’t.

“I’m hoping it’s not his number. I was waiting to see if you had Julian’s so we could match them.”

I grab my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts quickly. Ryke looks over his shoulder and meets Daisy’s gaze while I search.

“Don’t look at her,” I advise. “She’s going to know something’s wrong.”

“She won’t,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“You’re wearing your emotions.”

Ryke tries to blanket his face with contentedness.

I stare at him with raised brows. “Now you look constipated.”

“Fuck you.” There it is. I smile while he goes back to his brooding self, not masking his concern.

When I read both numbers side by side, the bottom of my stomach falls.

“Now who’s wearing their emotions?” Ryke retorts. “It’s the same fucking number.” He shakes his head. “I should have beat the fuck out of him last night.”

“Lower your voice,” I whisper. “Ben is right here.”

Ryke glances out of the door frame and spots Ben hanging in the hallway. He eases back inside and says, “What are we going to fucking do?”

“What’s wrong?” Daisy slides between us. She’s about to go into the hall, but both Ryke and I stick out our arms to stop her here.

Rose, Lily and Lo bicker behind us, deeper inside the room. I ignore their voices as best I can. But I hear Lo say, “Go vomit in your Gucci handbag, you’ll feel better. And maybe you’ll expel some of that bitch inside of you.”

“Says the guy who’s more sloth than human. Go hug a tree and eat an ant.”

I tune out the rest. Ryke and I exchange a look before staring back down at Daisy.

She rubs her temple, her long hair tangled at her waist. “I feel really short when you guys do that whole towering over me thing.” She swallows. “I think I need some water.” She tries to leave again, but we block her. “Okay, really, what’s going on?”

I hand Ryke’s phone to Daisy. We both know that she can handle this information. Lo and Lily don’t need to hear it, which is why Ryke has kept this to himself.

“Wait…” Daisy frowns, her brows scrunching. “…this has to be a wrong number.”

“It’s not,” I say. “We just checked.”

She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t say this to me. He’s not that crude.”

“He didn’t say it to you,” Ryke tells her. “He sent the text to me. He’s a fucking guy, Dais—he’s going to be cruder to me, not his girlfriend.”

She stares at the ground in thought. “What…what happened last night? Did I do something…?”

“Fuck,” Ryke curses and he glares at me. “She can’t remember anything.”