Текст книги "Hothouse Flower"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

< 6 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

I should really rethink hashing out my sexual history to my sister’s boyfriend’s older brother. (Yeah, it’s a tongue-twister.) But you know, I started so now I have to finish. I try not to half-ass things. Go full force, Daisy. No hitting the brakes. Yeah, I can do this.

I stare at his eyes that are hard and harsh, never softening for me. Our close proximity doesn’t really alleviate anything between us, but I like his closeness too much to jump off the motorcycle. And hey, he’s not moving either. Good signs, I think.

“The first guy sucked,” I tell him. “We did it once. It lasted like thirty seconds.” I should probably blush, but that time feels ancient. I just remember sitting up in his bed and being like that’s it? That’s sex? What the hell is so awesome about it?

Ryke keeps his face unreadable, just dark and brooding. Okay. I can continue without crumbling under his intense silence. Go, go, go.

I lick my lips and say, “And the second guy, we did it a couple times. He lasted maybe three minutes.”

“How old were these guys?” he asks.

“Only a few years older than me. I mean, I’ve dated guys in their late twenties, but we couldn’t have sex. I wasn’t eighteen yet.” And I wasn’t about to break the law and have a guy thrown in jail for sleeping with me.

“I’ve met most of the older guys you’ve dated,” he reminds me. “They were complete fucking morons by the way.”

“They weren’t that bad.”

“Julian?” he says. “You think he was better than a fucking rat?”

“Connor called him an ape.”

“Connor gave him too much fucking credit.”

“Connor also called you a dog,” I say with a crinkled nose. “Do you think I’m the cat to your dog or am I like a squirrel?”

“How’d we get to this place?” he asks like this is the stupidest ‘fucking’ conversation.

“I’m a hamster, aren’t I?” I stick out my bottom lip.

“You’re not a fucking hamster.” He rolls his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. I don’t think he realizes how hot he is when he does that. “You’re a bird.”

“A bird.”

“Yeah a fucking bird that won’t stop flying or squawking.”

“Like an eagle?”

“You’re prettier than an eagle.” He rolls his eyes again. “Fuck.”

“You called me pretty.” I poke his chest, my smile overtaking my face.

He stares at me hard. “Julian,” he finds the beginning of our conversation. “You still like him? Because if you do, we need to have a heavy fucking talk.”

I shake my head quickly. “No, I don’t like him.”

Julian actually really scared me. He went on a trip to the Alps with all of us. I didn’t realize how in over my head I was until I tried to break up with him, and he wouldn’t listen to me, as if I was too young to really understand. Maybe I was. I don’t know anymore. All I know is that I don’t want to be afraid of the person I’m with. That isn’t a danger I like.

 “And just so you know,” I say, “I haven’t been ecstatic by some of the girls you’ve chosen. One of them called Lily a slut.” And behind Ryke’s back, she literally pulled my hair. Hard.

“I broke up with her the second she said that,” he reminds me. “You were with that idiot for months.”

“I tried breaking up with him,” I retort. “I even wrote him a letter. It went something like: Julian, I think we’re better as friends. Xoxo Daisy.”

Ryke groans, but his hand unconsciously rises from my knee to my thigh. The affection speeds my heart.

“The hugs and kisses were too much, weren’t they?”

“Who breaks up with someone in a fucking note?”

“Someone who’s scared.” I’m not as fearless as my sisters would like to believe.

“You’re not a fucking coward. You’re just with the wrong guys.” He glances at his hand and takes it off me. Then his brown eyes flit from the small space between our bodies to my gaze again. “Did any of them last longer than five minutes?”

I try to think back. “I think six minutes was the highest.”

“Were you seriously timing them?”

“I was waiting for it to end.”

He grimaces.

I pretty much dislike everything about sex. The before. The during. The after. No moment is fun.

I’ve kept trying to see if it gets better.

It doesn’t.

It’s just a load of uncomfortable and awkward. Nothing about sex gives me that fulfillment that other girls talk about. What is an orgasm? Nerve-spindling? Head-spinning? I’ve had that skydiving and racing my motorcycle down a steep hill alongside Ryke. That’s as orgasmic as I’ve ever been.

“Sex is stupid,” I tell him.

“It is when you’re with guys who can’t satisfy you.”

I flush at his words. “Rose just told me to try it with more guys and see what happens.”

Ryke looks ready to spring off the bike and go track down my sister. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I thought it was nice. She’s a proponent of experimenting.”

“Says the fucking virgin.”

“She’s not a virgin anymore,” I point out.

Ryke glares. “So she’s slept with one guy her whole life, and she’s telling you to fuck around to find someone. She didn’t fuck around, Daisy. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“She has no experience with experimenting, got it,” I nod. “I’ve tried to talk to Lily about it, but she’s uncomfortable discussing sex with me.” I shrug. “Sometimes she’ll open up though. It’s just hard finding a day where she feels good enough to do it.”

Ryke relaxes a bit at the mention of Lily’s sex addiction and her shame towards the whole subject.

“Maybe I’m doing something wrong,” I say. “Is it normal for guys to last so short?”

Ryke runs his hand through his thick hair. He’s never held back with me before, so I don’t expect him to now. “They’re probably really fucking attracted to you, and when they get you in bed, they just come early. It’s not a fucking reflection on you but them.”

“So I need to find a guy who’s not attracted to me?” That doesn’t make sense.

Ryke shakes his head. “No, Dais. You need to like the guy you’re with as much as they like you. That way, you’ll fucking come too.”

“But what happens when the guy I like isn’t emotionally available?”

“Stay single,” he suggests.

“Forever?”

Ryke’s whole body tenses. I don’t know if that’s a no or a yes. Inside I’m screaming, give me something! Blink once for yes, twice for no!

And then the garage door opens. “Hey,” Lo calls, “dinner is…” His voice dies when he catches us on the motorcycle together.

Uh-oh.

Ryke slowly climbs off the bike, acting like he did nothing wrong. I mimic his guiltless expression, and I follow him, swinging my legs over the seat and standing up.

Lo’s eyes flash murderously at his brother. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” Ryke replies coolly. “We were just talking.”

Lo nods like he’s trying to believe that. “If you were just talking, then why were her legs wrapped around your waist?”

“Lo,” I try to cut in, but Ryke holds up his hand to stop me. This is between them, I guess.

But I do care about Lo a lot. He’s always been another extension of my family in a sense. He started as Lily’s best friend. Then her boyfriend. Now fiancé. And she always brought him on Calloway vacations. He was her plus one.

To say he’s like a big brother to me would be accurate.

Which makes everything with Ryke a tiny bit weird, but at the same time, Ryke feels so disconnected from Lo—a barrier built between them from years of separation. So maybe it’s not as strange as it could be.

“We’re friends,” Ryke tells his brother.

“Friends don’t do shit like that,” Lo retorts, pointing at my Ducati like it violated me. I would actually love to be violated on that motorcycle by Ryke Meadows. I wonder how rough he would take me.

Or if I would even be able to orgasm at all.

Ryke pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “What do you fucking want me to say?”

“That what I just saw was a mistake!” Lo shouts.

Ryke doesn’t speak, so I will. “It was a mistake,” I tell Lo. “I wanted to see what it would be like to ride on a motorcycle backwards. I needed his help.”

Lo glares from me to him. “That’s the best lie you can come up with?”

I smile. “It’s actually the truth.”

This only incites Lo more. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Daisy. He’s seven years older than you. He’s been with more girls than you probably even realize.”

“No, I realize that he’s slept with a lot of women, but his number is probably one that I would have easily reached at twenty-five too.”

Lo grimaces like that image is disgusting. “I’m in an alternate universe right now.”

“Really? Cool. Is it more fun here? I think it is.” I turn to Ryke. “What do you think?”

“Tone it down,” he tells me, his eyes fixed on his brother. “Lo—”

“You’re not good enough for her,” he says. “You realize that, right?”

Ryke’s jaw locks, and his shoulders tense. “I care about Daisy just as much as you, if not more, so you don’t need to pull this overprotective bullshit on me.”

“It’s not bullshit if you’re fucking her.”

“We’re not fucking!” Ryke shouts.

More people trickle in the garage. Connor. Both of my sisters.

Rose is classily outfitted in a black high-collared dress, stomping through the doorway in five-inch heels. She looks like a perfect match beside the ever-confident Connor Cobalt.

Lily has on one of Lo’s shirts and a pair of leggings, and she squeezes through the doorway to reach Lo near Rose’s parked Escalade. I envy her short brown hair that’s chopped at her shoulders. “What’s going on?” she whispers to Lo.

“I caught them fucking on her motorcycle.”

Ryke groans. “Come on! We were both on the bike, fully fucking clothed. We’ve never had sex!” He shakes his head. “How many times do I have to say it? You know what, we might as well fuck if you all think we’ve done it a thousand times already.”

My eyes widen. Really?

“Whoa, whoa,” Lo cringes, holding up his hands. “I can’t stomach you guys doing it once. So please spare me the goddamn picture of it happening a thousand times.”

“Both of you,” Connor says, stepping down the three stairs into the garage. “Stop for a second.” He stands between both brothers to mediate. “You’re overreacting.”

“I don’t like being accused of things that I didn’t fucking do,” Ryke growls.

“Yeah? How do you think Dad feels?!” Lo yells.

It’s like a bomb dropped, Lo’s hostile voice echoing before the garage goes quiet. Ryke breathes heavily but makes no attempt to answer Lo. It’s a loaded question.

Lo returns to the central issue. “She’s eighteen.”

“Here we go,” Ryke says, throwing his arms in the air. “Let’s fucking hear it, Lo. She’s eighteen. She’s like your little sister. Her mom hates me. I know. I know. I fucking know.”

Lo’s face contorts in a series of emotions, and Lily reaches out and wraps her arm around his waist. He calms down by the single touch.

Rose places her hands on her hips. “I don’t see the problem here.”

“Darling,” Connor says with the shake of his head. “Don’t make it worse.”

She huffs. “They’re both consenting—”

“I’m not consenting,” Ryke suddenly says, not looking at me. “Because nothing is fucking going on.” His eyes meet Lo’s and they soften for him. “Okay?”

They both have trust issues.

I know it doesn’t help that Ryke is lying to him about sleeping in my bed. If Lo found out, he would disapprove and find a way to separate us for the betterment of my health. But I think my health is the best when I’m with Ryke. Sleeping without him has been nearly impossible. I need the reassurance at night, the confidence of another person in order to sleep without fear. Otherwise, I can’t even get an hour of shuteye.

But I’m not keeping Ryke at gunpoint. If he wants to leave, I’d let him. And I guess I’d have to find someone to replace him. I’m not even sure that’s possible though. Maybe in my heart, I just know that I only want Ryke Meadows.

“Let’s eat,” Connor says. “The eggs are going to get cold.”

We all wait for one of the brothers to make a move first. They have the power to reignite the argument or dissolve it.

Lo opens his mouth, needing the last word. “I didn’t accept you into my life so you could bang my girlfriend’s little sister. Don’t make me regret letting you in.”

That one stung. I felt it like a sharp kick.

Lo walks away, disappearing inside, and Ryke doesn’t wait for me. He goes in right after him. Connor is next, leaving me alone with my sisters.

“Well,” I say to them, “there are always fireworks at my parties, aren’t there?”

“Do you need a hug?” Rose asks me. “Because if you do, Lily can give you one.”

Lily looks at Rose like really?

“You give better hugs than I do. I know my weaknesses.” Rose raises her chin at me. “But really, are you okay?”

I shrug. “Yeah.” They think I have this massive crush on Ryke, and while I do like him, I understand more than anyone what we can and cannot do. I’ve accepted that reality for so long that the fantasy is always us being together.

I skip towards them and wrap my arms around their shoulders. “Thank you for the decorations, by the way. They’re beautiful.”

They both smile when I do.

That lights up any black spots that dotted my heart. But it’s not enough to take away the panic that I’ll feel come nighttime. Sometimes I wish it could be daylight forever. I wish that I could be with these five people and never have to face the world alone.

But Paris is my test.

I want to pass, but a part of me wonders if it’s even possible to be that fearless girl again. Maybe too much has changed to go back.

< 7 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

I wash the dishes after dinner, offering since Connor and Lo cooked. Everyone just acted like nothing happened in the garage, which was as expected. This wasn’t the first time I’ve been too close to Ryke in front of them.

It’s an exhausting fight and one that’s strangely become predictable.

Ryke enters the kitchen, everyone else in the living room. I look up, expecting another body passing through the archway. “They know why I’m here,” he says off my lingering gaze.

I frown. “You’re going to help me wash dishes?”

He grabs a bowl from the cupboard. “No. We all watched you push your fucking eggs around for thirty minutes.” He picks out granola cereal from another cabinet, his favorite brand. I’m sure he left a box here after early morning runs at Lo’s house.

“I ate the fruit,” I tell him. Fashion Week is coming up. I want to eat more than anyone. I just have a lot of self-control.

He opens the fridge for the milk. “Fucking fantastic,” he says to me. “Now I’m really at ease.”

“I also tried the bacon.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Okay, I didn’t eat the bacon, but I wanted to.” I put the last plate into the dishwasher and then climb up on the counter. He makes the cereal beside me.

“You know what I fucking learned today?” he says, his features really dark. “Rose just told Connor, my brother, and me that you have irregular periods because of your weight.”

Oh God. I groan. “She did not tell you guys that.” Sometimes Rose being overly open is a bad thing. When it comes to her private life, she’s a mouse. Or at least, she used to be.

“Yeah, she fucking did.”

I didn’t want her to share that info with anyone but Lily and maybe Poppy, our oldest sis. “It’s only like that when I—”

“Starve yourself,” he deadpans. Then he shakes his head. “You can’t eat, you can’t sleep…”

I smile wide at his words because I instantly recall a quote from a movie. I can’t help it. I recite the lines, “It's got to be that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff.” Then I pause, waiting for his ah-ha moment. He just looks confused. “It Takes Two.” It doesn’t ring a bell for him. “A Mary Kate and Ashley movie. They were describing love.”

His eyebrows rise. “Funny. But love isn’t causing you these problems.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

He extends his arms. “I’m sorry, where are all the guys you’ve been dating while I’ve been sleeping in your fucking bed?”

“I could be in love with you.” I throw out this line, wondering if he’ll reel me in, but he just gives me a hard stare.

“Are you?” he taunts back, not stepping down from this.

He puts me on the defensive. I want to say yes. But am I in love with Ryke? How do I know? “I’m not sure.”

“Well, be damn fucking sure about this,” Ryke says, “any love that I fucking give will never hurt a woman.” He passes the bowl to me, cold in my hands. “Eat your cereal.”

Seriousness blankets the kitchen once more. “You heard my mom this morning.” She bruised my hip she pinched my skin so hard.

“Yeah.” His eyebrows rise. “Fuck your mom.”

“Hey,” I snap.

“Hey what? She’s nothing but cruel to Lily. She fights with Rose constantly. And she treats you like you’re a little fucking doll she likes to dress up and show off. It drives me fucking nuts watching you do things you hate just to please other people.”

I’m not a fan of modeling, not when I have to stand still for so long. I just get restless. So I can’t argue against his point. “It’s different when peoples’ careers are on the line. Fashion designers and agents are counting on me. If I can’t fit into the clothes, then I’m not just disappointing myself but I’m hurting them.”

I search his eyes, but all I see is that familiar stone that Lily talks about. She says his brother is ice. All sharp. But Ryke, he’s like the rocks he climbs—just hard.

“Don’t be a fucking mannequin.”

“I’m not.”

“Really? Because I see a girl who has another person’s thoughts, another person’s desires and dreams.”

“I think that’s a puppet.”

“Don’t be a fucking puppet then.”

My eyes fall to the cereal. I’ve heard him speak with this conviction before, but this time, it barrels into me like the biggest truth of all. “Maybe after Fashion Week, I’ll tell her how I feel again.” Maybe I can finally stand up to my mom. “Why are you so passionate about this anyway?” I ask, expecting him to say something like because I care about you.

Instead he says, “I’ve been there with my own mother. It’s not fucking fun.”

He hardly talks about Sara Hale, mostly because of what happened a couple years ago. Mostly because she changed all of our lives. And I’m not sure it was all for the better.

“Eat your fucking cereal,” he says roughly.

I do. Four spoonfuls later, Ryke looks pleased. I like when he’s satisfied. I like when I do right by all people, but it’s just hard when my mom stands at one end and my sisters, Ryke, Connor and Lo stand at the other.

They outnumber her, but my mom raised me. Isn’t that a trump card?

He watches me eat, making sure that I’m not fibbing. “This cereal sucks,” I tell him on the tenth bite.

“It’s healthy, but if you want chocolate, there’s ice cream in the freezer.”

I practically moan. “Don’t tempt me.”

He almost smiles. “After Fashion Week, you promise you’ll talk to her?”

I nod. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t yeah me twice,” he retorts.

“Why, because it’s redundant?”

He leans close, his arms on either side of the counter, on either side of me. “Because it sounds fake, sweetheart.”

“So if I moan twice—”

He covers my mouth with his large hand, enveloping my cheeks and jaw. “Don’t go there, not tonight.”

I do ride that line a little too much. We tempt and tease each other with knowledge that nothing more can happen. It’s our dynamic.

I finish off most of the cereal, leaving the soggy clumps of granola floating in the milk. “I’m sorry about the garage. I pushed you too far.” I set down the bowl and hop off the counter. He’s right there, not moving from this spot. His hands still on the counter.

I’m closer to him than before.

“No you didn’t,” he says. “If I fucking wanted to be with you like that, I would have by now. You’ve been eighteen for six months.”

This shouldn’t hurt, but his words knot my stomach, the granola rising to my throat. I swallow it back down. I think wanting is a little different than doing. I thought he wanted to like me, but he knew he couldn’t. But that’s not right. He’s never really expressed any attraction towards me. We flirt sometimes, but he’s never gotten hard or aroused by me.

At least not that I’ve seen.

I want to test it.

I shouldn’t, but I’m curious. I don’t know how else to see if he shares the same attraction. He doesn’t show it in his eyes the way I do.

He’s close enough that all I have to do is wrap my arms around his chest for a hug. He’s my wolf, and I seriously wonder if he’ll bite me today. I don’t think twice. I hug him, and his body goes rigid. I look up, neither of us retracting.

“Daisy…”

My long legs touch his strong ones. My hip bones press into his pelvis, a little shorter than him since he’s six-three to my five-eleven. I become keenly aware of his flexed muscles and dark eyes that set on me. It’s an R-rated hug, if there can be one. And yet, he’s not hard. He’s just tense, like he’s waiting for me to draw away.

Instead of hugging me back, he sets a single hand on my head, hesitating.

I sigh. Well that test was inconclusive. “Thanks,” I say. That single word relaxes his muscles. “I’m glad we can be non-fucking friends.” It’s better than nothing.

His dark eyes dance over my features. He stays quiet for a long time, both of us unmoving from this position. It’s dangerous to be like this after the garage incident, but I think we’re equally attracted to that danger.

His thumb grazes my cheek. “You look fucking exhausted.”

“I napped.”

“You don’t fucking nap,” he says.

“I shut my eyes this afternoon. What do you call that?”

“Shutting your fucking eyes,” he deadpans.

A smile breaks through my face. I laugh, and then I lean forward and rest my cheek against his chest. I close my eyes, and his body stiffens again. He’s warm. I listen to the faint sound of his heart for a second, and I swear it speeds. But maybe that’s just mean hoping that I have some sort of effect on Ryke Meadows.

“What are you doing?” he asks roughly. His hands return to my head, making me realize that I’m smaller than him. It’s hard finding guys taller than me, which is why I’ve gravitated towards models in the past.

“Sleeping,” I say with a smile.

“When did I become your fucking pillow?” he asks lightly.

“Shhh,” I whisper, “it’s safe here.”

Just when I anticipate Ryke drawing away from me, he surprises me and kisses the top of my head. But it lasts only a second before his hands fall. His brows scrunch as he glares at something over my shoulder. I turn my head and follow his gaze, spotting a Celebrity Crush magazine by the coffee pot.

“Who still buys that garbage?”

“Lily,” I say. “I think my sister’s hoping people will forget about our family.”

“She’s dreaming.” Ryke leaves my side to grab the magazine. He flips through it quickly, and I catch the main headline on the front cover before he trashes it. Photo! Lily Calloway Dating Her Fiancé and His Brother.

“What’s the photo of?” I ask curiously, rinsing the cereal bowl.

“The three of us eating lunch at Lucky’s downtown. The press can keep saying I’m banging your fucking sister, but we all know it’s a load of—”

“Shit,” I finish. “Bullshit.” I mock gasp. “Fucking bullshit.”

He stares at me with harshness that would intimidate most people. But I don’t back down. My eyes stay locked on his piercing ones, and then his lips slowly rise. “When did your mouth get so fucking dirty, Calloway?” he asks.

“The moment I became friends with you.”

“Good on me then,” he says, messing my hair with a rough hand. “I’m tailing you when we leave, by the way.”

“You’re supposed to be my pillow, not my bodyguard,” I remind him. “I already have one of those.” His name is Mikey Black. He’s in his forties and used to be a physical trainer in California. Unlike Lily’s bodyguard who’s a bit beefy and wears oversized suits, mine likes to dress in Bermuda shorts in the winter and cut-off shirts. He’s pretty cool.

“He can’t keep up with you,” Ryke says, sidling next to me. He watches as I stick the bowl into the dishwasher.

“He taught me how to surf this summer,” I refute.

“He only rides Harleys, and they can’t go as fucking fast as your sportbike. I’ve never seen him pass a paparazzi’s car when he’s with you.” That’s true. I end up being flocked by SUVs. Like tonight. I tried to outmaneuver them, but they sped up behind me, forcing me to go a little faster. And Mikey was lost somewhere with my shift from eighty miles per hour to a hundred-and-five on the interstate.

“He smells like salt water and candy,” I tell him. “Sometimes even cupcakes.”

Ryke gives me a blank stare.

“Those are selling points,” I say.

“Not for me.”

“There’s nothing better than cupcakes, except maybe chocolate cake, but that’s still in the cupcake family.”

“Sex,” he says. “Sex is better than chocolate.” He always tells me this.

“Not for me,” I use his exact words.

His eyes descend to my lips. I swear they do this time. But it happens so quickly. Maybe it was just me wanting it badly again… I don’t know why I torture myself. It’s not like we can act on anything, even if he does admit to liking me as more than just non-fucking friends.

I let the moment go. Like I always do. “What makes you think that you can keep up with me more than Mikey?” I ask.

He leans close again. “Because,” he says, “I’m the one who taught you how to ride a motorcycle.”

I smile. Yes he did.